Catwoman
by counselor
Summary: Life is boring but good. He buys the house across the street. Too many cats spoil his backyard. McCarty tells him they belong to the cat woman.  He's a little thrown when he meets her.  But he won't back down.  And neither will she.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The thing of it is, I was happy with my life. I'd realized it was a small life, but I'd really been raised to believe those were the best kind. A small life was a controllable life, and even then, even then it could beat the snot out of you so badly you could almost never recover.

I was contented. I was grieving. But I was used to the comfort of my sadness. I didn't know this at the time. At the time I thought I was fine existing on a low level of energy. It was a steady low-level of energy, just enough to get me through, but I'd pulled the plug on nearly everything that made me uncomfortable. I knew how to conserve, and look stable to my tiny non-judgmental cluster of friends and kind-of friends. They'd known me for so long, their expectations had given way to who I really was, and somehow it was enough.

I was kind of like a floor lamp in the room, there, with just enough light to keep myself from being thrown away. Combined with shinier friends like Rose, and Alice, I almost looked like I contributed something.

Then shortly after my father Charlie died, Alice's dad, who lived across the street, died. Alice, an only child, decided to sell the place, as she lived an hour away in the city. And the place was in sore need of repairs. So she gave the buyer's agent a good deal, and it sat there staring at me, abandoned, each window like a dead eye, until the new owner, a Mr. Edward Cullen, showed up. Or I should say his team showed. I'd feared he'd turn it into something ostentatious that would make my own home look like a misplaced tool-shed. But he restored the place tastefully, modernizing with regard to the rest of the neighborhood, keeping to the bones, but dressing it with newer, larger windows, a new roof, new landscaping, new doors. It was Botox, not a facelift.

And so he moved in. Modern furniture, an occasional antique. Alice couldn't tell me much. He was single. Paid cash. Didn't argue the price. He was from Chicago. Made a lot of money in the gold rush days of the cell phone business. He was out of that and very diversified in business. Oh, and thirty-two.

Gay? I mean, I did wonder. Until the blonde showed up. And the redhead. Not gay.

Not that I cared. I wasn't spying on him, but I am an avid gardener, and I do care who is living right across the street from me.

And those big windows of his, now what was there to see? My poor house, my yard, my sanctuary.

I feel like I'm trapped in his microscope now, so this staring-fest goes two ways, not that I have evidence. Not that I'm staring in an obvious way. But I'm interested in him. And I'm mad at him. All the construction, the trucks. And me feeling differently about everything, wondering where my twenties went. A long decade of mistakes and hard work. And he and his friends are like, living it up, right in my face, and it used to be quiet here, peaceful, private.

I haven't mentioned his appearance. It's ridiculous. I'm looking for the flaw, something so I can let go of this dumb preoccupation. He can't be this perfect. I need something to hold onto as a base point for reality, something I can remember when this emotion overtakes me, this regret. I hate how he makes me feel. I hate that he's moved here. I'm furious with Alice. I told her not to sell the first year but to let the dust settle. But her parents hadn't been happy. She says my house is her home. Rose feels the same, not that they've come in a while, both so busy, so successful.

Well, I haven't introduced myself. I tried to wave once, while watering my lawn, when he pulled up, but he hurries into the house, he doesn't look my way at all. So I won't embarrass myself again. I really don't want to be bothered. I don't want to know him. My privacy is everything to me. I need to be left alone when I'm home. All day long I have to talk to people. But not here. Here I seal my voice in a jar and work with my hands. He's ruined everything. But the cats. I still have them.

It's red-hot July when I'm talking to Rose. She's shifting around her apartment. I hear her kick off her shoes, plunk ice into a glass, crack open a cap on a bottle. Rose never does one thing at a time. She's perpetual motion and production. I know that once she drinks the whatever, I'll hear the toilet flush.

"So how's the hot reincarnation of Alice's dad?" Rose and Alice have never called more frequently than they do now.

"Edward," I remind her.

She repeats the name like they're having sex.

"Rose, if you want your update, stop that."

"Did you go over there yet?"

Oh, the conversations we've had. We've gone through all the scenarios of me leaving the lights on and doing obscene things, me knocking on his door wearing something sexy, big elaborate plans all of which culminate in his eager seduction. We've talked this thing to death, but not really.

"I have to get to Forks, Bella. But with the schedule I'm on, I know I won't make it this month." Yes, she won't make it. Not with the off chance of running into her fresh break-up McCarty.

It was the same for Alice. Jasper Whitlock, or jilted Jasper as we called him, had been moping around for years. She seldom showed her face around Forks. But me, I had to live here with the two of them, McCarty and Whitlock. I was a sore, an open wound who drifted into their fields of vision to torment them. They'd been my friends and now…it was all crap.

Back to Rose. She said, "I know the new hot guy hasn't noticed you, Bella. You dress like a pioneer when you work in the yard. Any other time it's the repressed librarian. That's your trajectory: Pioneer on the left, repressed librarian on the right."

I try to remind her about my allergies to many plants and even the sun. I've always been very pale. The sun poisons my skin and gives me a rash. And almost any plant that touches my arms gives me welts. I love to garden, but a big floppy hat, and long sleeves are a must.

"Okay, Bubble-girl, but Laura Ingalls is known for her writing, not her wardrobe," Rose says tiredly. Then the toilet flushes.

"I'm gonna go," I say. I'm used to her calling me a repressed librarian, but a pioneer kind of hurts.

"I just did," she laughs.

I click off my cell and lay it on the sill. Then I stare out the window. He's just come out his front door. His hair is reddish, longish. A strong face, easy to see from across the street. I haven't viewed him up close, but I get the full picture. He's tall. I like his frame. I work in a college library. I see young guys all the time. All kinds of guys. Handsome doesn't move me. I'm practically dead. Just ask Rose and Alice. They marvel all of the time. But this man, this Edward, he's just very compelling.

And I will never, ever share that. I will joke and smile, and admit he's striking, but I will never, ever admit how deeply moved I feel if I even catch a glimpse of him. Not even to myself.

I do admire his walk, kind of graceful and full of energy. I like long thighs on a man, I didn't really realize that until this moment. His jeans are not from Forks Rural Supply. They are amazing.

I slap my hands together. He is crossing the street. He cannot be coming to my house! And yet his loose, graceful gait is directed toward me. His white button down shirt is open over a white T-shirt. It moves around him as he walks. He's looking at my house. I don't have the light on, but for a moment it seems he is looking straight at me. I run into the hall and stare at my closed front door. In seconds I hear his tread on the wooden porch. Then he knocks loudly.

I am frozen for a moment, but a second round of purposeful raps snaps me to. I've just gotten off of work. I'm in my blue short-sleeved blouse, and my slip. Yes, I wear a full slip with certain skirts, just like Natalie Wood. This particular slip was my mother's. She was small, like me. I love the feel of silk against my thighs. Sue me.

And I'm bare-footed. My toes are painted a pale pink. I won't answer. I don't owe him anything. He can't just drop in like this. A third round of knocking propels me to action. I put my hand on the door knob, withdraw it, grip it once more with purpose. I crack the door and peek out. He has the greenest eyes I've ever seen. Because I have never noticed anyone's green eyes before. I've seen a nice blue pair once, but the color of someone's eyes is lost on me.

However, I cannot hold his gaze. Not if this exchange will require the use of my voice. He's wearing brown leather slip on shoes. I love them.

"Miss Swan?" he says, a little thrown, it seems, as I'm just peeking out the crack I've made by holding the door open the smallest bit.

"Yes. I…I'm Miss Swan…I mean Bella." I suck some air in through my open mouth because my chest seems to have lost all ability to expand.

"Wow, you're much younger than I realized. I may have to kill Emmet McCarty. I pictured a widow or something…" One hand is on his hip, holding a ring of silver keys, but with the other he pulls on his hair. It's great hair, and I think he should be more careful with it. He wouldn't want to lose it unduly. And did he say Emmet McCarty, really?

"Oh man, are you a widow?" Then quickly he follows that with, "That was rude."

His rambling gives me some kind of clarity. I widen the crack another 1.4 inches or something. My heavy hair is hanging over my shoulder. Between the hair and the door, I'm feeling comforted. I don't intend to answer the widow-question. "Can I help you with something?" I also won't admit I know his name. How does he know mine?

His eyes follow the length of my hair. I'm self-conscious now. I run my hand over its length and hold it away from my face. This also comforts me. If anything can.

His green eyes flick from my hand to my eyes, several times. He licks his lips, and rattles his keys before tucking them back into his waist.

"I…I'm having a problem with some cats. Someone told me you had cats."

"Oh, sure. That would be McCarty," I say weakly. McCarty calls me Catwoman. At least he has for years. Now that he and Rose are broken…he probably calls me other things. And he's talked to this guy, Edward. Great.

Cullen shrugs, smiles. His jaw is more sculpted than any other. I shall see all men's faces as somehow weak in comparison. I try not to go too deeply into my observations, as he is requiring a response about the cats. But his voice is lovely, even now when he's a bit intense.

"I don't want to get off on a bad foot complaining, but they are crapping in my flowers, and they are shredding one of my patio chairs, and this morning, I leave the back door open and this one comes in carrying a bird in his mouth. I feed the birds. I like birds. I hate these damn cats. Ma'am. Miss." He is brutalizing his hair. He turns quickly and looks across the street at his house, blows out a breath and turns toward me. His clean smell hits me. I widen the door another inch. More even. I am leaning on it, but his eyes dart to the floor, and I realize he can see the line of my body, and one foot. I pull behind the door again. He's seen the light pink slip, and light pink toes. And he's threatening my cats, I don't care how unbelievably handsome he is, or how green his eyes are, or how beautiful the jaw, the lips, and the hair, the height and the general way he's put together, no one threatens my cats.

"If you'll allow me a minute, I would like to explain something about the cats," I say, finding my librarian's voice at last. He sobers a bit, taking note of my tone. His eyes travel my length once more. I don't think he's admiring the row of tucks along the front of my blue blouse, or the two inches of lace at my hem, or my talent with the toe nail polish brush. But he sure is looking. He turns away again and lets out a breath and I don't know what all of that huffing and puffing means. I push the door closed and run to the kitchen chair to retrieve my light gray pleated skirt. I shimmy into it and zip it up the back. I straighten my blouse, smooth over my hair, stick my feet into my black ballet flats that sit by the door. I take a quick cleansing breath, push my oldest cat Cottonball aside with my foot as this would hardly be the time for her to accompany me out the door, and I meet Mr. Edward Cullen on my front porch.

He turns toward me. I have never felt so small beside a man. What I lack in stature I make up for with an uncrackable professional demeanor. But here, on my porch, I'm just short.

His gaze is hard to hold. But I make myself breathe slowly, and I meet his gaze. "I didn't catch your name," I lie.

"Edward Cullen," he answers, shifting his keys to his left hand, and taking the hand I've extended. When I touch him, I have to renegotiate the slow breathing. I pull my hand away quickly. I'm embarrassed that I've been spastic, but I refuse to dwell on it.

"About the cats," I look down. "Most of these are neighbors. This street is their home. They live in the woods behind our houses, and they depend upon our kindness. This is an older neighborhood. As people have passed, cats have been left behind. Often, they're too old to move on. So we have several generations, at all times. We all feed them, the half a dozen of us that are up and down this road. It's just understood. I actually own two of them. Mine are spayed. They're family. They're all family."

I held his gaze. I loved the cats, McCarty be damned.

"They're wild," he said, bending toward me slightly, squinting his eyes like I'm the sun.

"No. They're connected to us. Very friendly."

"They have diseases. It's inhumane. Isn't there an animal control officer in Forks?"

I'm not liking him as much now. I can see he might be a strong opponent if he was inclined.

I stand a bit straighter, shifting my feet. He shifts just a bit so we're aligned with one another. "There is a police department. And they do the job of animal control officers." It used to be my dad, but I don't tell him that.

"I'm not going to endure destruction of property. I also maintain the right to leave my door open." His eyes are smiling, but his lips are set.

"So what are you saying?" I fold my arms and lift my chin.

"I thought I was clear." He angles himself a bit closer, tilting his head, like I'm a naughty girl or something.

"I'm not stupid, Mr. Cullen. You don't have to talk down to me."

He lightly touches my arm, "I didn't mean to."

I step back. "You can't just move in here and change everything."

"I am a property owner, Miss Swan." His voice is indulgent. It ticks me off.

"Not stupid again, Cullen. I saw the 'sold' sign. As a matter of fact, Alice is like a sister to me. That house has had one owner for my entire life. Until you. So I noticed the change."

"I've seen you notice," he lifts one brow. "I just thought you were older. A lonely cat lady."

"Yes, I've heard McCarty's routine for years." Lonely catwoman librarian.

No wonder Rose broke up with the ass.

"I mean no disrespect. You're hardly what I expected, is what I'm saying."

"I don't know what that has to do with anything…"

He ignores me and continues, "I should think that my careful restoration of the house would be something to celebrate in a neighborhood as run down as this. I've upped the property values of every cat lover in this neighborhood." Now his lips are smiling, but his eyes are not.

"We should have a ring-kissing neighborhood bar-be-que."

He blurts a laugh. "I'll bring the cat-steaks."

"So not funny."

His eyes drag all over me quickly and he sucks in a big breath.

"Wow, this isn't getting us anywhere. I just wanted to give you a heads up. I'm calling the police about the cats. Be sure and keep yours inside." He smiles. "I hope this won't cause any ill will between us."

I shake my head as I glare at him. "Really?" I point to the street the separates our houses, "ill-will."

"Oh come on, Miss Swan. More like the road that's paved with good intentions...that's like the road to hell though, right? Look, I'm a fair guy. This needed to be taken care of a long time ago. What do you expect me to do, live under a cat-siege?" He steps down my three porch stairs, and I hold my position on the porch.

He turns back to me. "I'm going to alert the police to the problem and they can help decide how to deal with it. It's not humane to let them live like this."

"It's humane to destroy them?"

"I just wanted to see if they belonged to you and give you a heads up."

He walks quickly away then, all the way across the street. He gets into his car, shoots me one sheepish look and pulls off.

"You jerk," I whisper. My father had been the chief of police when he'd gotten the cancer that would eventually kill him. Edward Cullen has no idea who he's messing with.


	2. Chapter 2

Will he never quit hoping?

I refer to Jacob Black, our new chief of police and my ex-boyfriend. Yes, I cringe inwardly every time we meet, even after years of pretending we're past all of that. Because he's not as far past it as he should be, and I have never dumped the guilt his puppy dog eyes wring from me every time we face off.

"I was just thinking about you," he says, stepping up to the counter that borders the small open office at Forks police station.

He doesn't clarify his statement. Open-ended, uncomfortable remarks are how he punishes me now that he can't just show up at my house under the guise of spending time with my sick father.

"Is there a warrant out for my arrest?" I inquire, pretending he's not sticking it to me again.

He's not that tall, but he's muscular and growing more muscular. He's another McCarty in the making. I try not to think of Edward Cullen's jeans, but there they are, flashing through my memory like a subliminal message. Go figure.

He leans an elbow on the counter, making himself too close. I know what he's going to say, but I can hope. Not the DNA, not the DNA. "Actually I need a sample of your DNA." Oh, he is McCarty. There's only three or four cards in the file drawer.

I sigh. "How's Leah?"

Yeah, it straightens him up. He's all business now. But not really. It's what we do. He's out of line. I mention Leah. He acts like that matters. I act like I believe it matters.

What a boring cycle it is.

"She's good…great." There're the eyes. Wounded Basset Hound. There're brown. I've always noticed that, so I lied before when I thought about the blue eyes I'd fallen for once. Now I see Cullen's eyes. Cullen. That's why I'm here. So the thought of those green eyes keeps the usual infusion of guilt that Jacob's manipulations inspire to dry up.

"I've heard from your new neighbor," Jacob says, suspicion in his tone. "Big city boy comes to humble small town America and has to start trouble." I can sense an eagerness in him that I agree with his summation about Edward. Is he threatened by Cullen?

I find myself wanting to defend Cullen. How crazy is that? "I can't believe he's already contacted you," I say. Edward Cullen is a man of his word. The ass.

"Yeah, like I've got the time to herd cats." He stares at me for a moment. Oh, I get it. Dating me was like herding a cat?

"So what did you tell him?"

"I told him to do what he had to do." Jacob says, hands sliding into his pockets.

"What does that mean, go all Call of Duty?"

"Bella, I know how you feel about those cats. He mentioned that he'd spoken with you. I mean…I don't like that he's living there. He doesn't have a record…"

"Of course you ran a background check."

"I promised Charlie I'd look after you."

"No. We've been over this. You are not my big brother."

"I never wanted to be." Okay, we know what he wanted to be. Always the baggage train.

"Then stop. Don't…be weird. We had this conversation years ago,"

"A year ago," he interrupts, "when Charlie got sick and we had to see each other."

"Okay, whatever, but we did this already. We're moving forward. Zero weirdness."

"And then Charlie called me to his deathbed and gave me the great commission and I said yes."

"Whatever, and Charlie is dead, and you have not taken the unbreakable vow. You are not my guardian angel. I am a fully functioning adult without any kind of psychiatric label. You are the chief of police. Just be that. Just…do your job."

"Oh. So that's it, then. No growing up together and knowing each others famlies, no years of being friends. Okay. And for your information, I do my job."

We standing there having a stare-fest when Angela gets back from lunch. She's timid as a rule, but whatever we're radiating makes her tiptoe past us, the only sound the crackle from her sandwich bag. "Hello," she whispers.

I swallow really loudly and whisper hello back. Jacob keeps staring.

I need to tell him that he's doing his job, and it's a good job, and of course I'm not discounting his value to me as a friend. But Leah is sitting at her desk very close by, and the energy to have any kind of exchange with him just leaves me.

"If Cullen harms one of those cats, I am blaming you. You need to back up what I've already explained. Those animals have a right to be there, and if he's such a great success in business, surely he can work out a creative solution for dealing with the helpless who were there first, by the way, and represent the lives of several of the good people of Forks who are also supposed to mean something to you."

"Bella…"

"I thought you loved Boots and Cuddles? What if something happens to Cottonball? You're so bent on protecting everyone Charlie loved, protect Cottonball!"

"Okay, Bella. You're not the chief of police. I am."

"Then lay down the law. At least threaten to ticket Cullen for cruelty to animals. If you won't do your job, I'll go to the newspaper."

"Bella, he's a property owner. He's not wanting to be cruel. He wants me to trap the cats and bring them to a shelter."

"To the gas chamber, you mean."

"He prefers a no-kill shelter. His words. He offered to drive them there. He offered to hire people to capture the cats and relocate them."

I was impressed. Kind of thrown. Then I got really furious. Cullen wasn't going to let this go. He was going to do this. He was going to take them away. I'd lost enough. How dare he. How dare he.

I was quite comfortable with taking all of my frustrations out on Jacob. I envisioned myself slapping and slapping his pudgy baby cheeks. All four of them.

A rant erupted out of me instead. "He did? Well no. Forks is their…why should they have to be ripped from their homes just because he's moved in and wants to turn our environment into a little piece of Chicago? Tell me they don't have cats in Chicago! Arrogant…to think…"

Jacob folded his arms across his chest. He was enjoying this exchange too much. That made me even madder.

"If my father was alive…" That was the rocket launcher. Jacob took a step back, and his arms fell at his sides.

"Bella do not…" he warned. He wanted me to take it back, but I crossed my arms and held my ground. Because I was right. My father would have diffused this situation with a look. He wouldn't have been intimidated by Edward Cullen. He would have worked it out, bought Edward a bag of catfood and a scratching post and put it in his yard then had a beer with him and that would be the end of it. I missed my father so much then. His scarred desk in the corner. It was too much.

I turned and pushed through the glass door. Jacob called to me, but I ignored him. I walked down the street not thinking about anything I passed. Charlie was gone. He was never coming back. How was that possible? I was thirty years old. And this is how it would be if I was lucky enough to live another fifty years. One long line of losses. It didn't pay to love anything. It just set you up to be ripped apart because everything ended, everyone left. Renee. Charlie. Mike. Alice. Rose. Neighbors. Pets. Everything left.


	3. Chapter 3

Catwoman 3

I lived for Saturday mornings. Really, I was giddy over the thought of all the great things I wanted to do. I'd already banked the fire in my brick, outdoor oven. I'd already kneaded the dough and shaped it in the pans. Four loaves of seven-grain, four loaves of buckwheat and oats. Some rolls. The oven, built by Charlie before he got sick, would hold the whole four loaves at a time, baking them with a thick crust and a texture that would tear just the right way. I was a bit of an artisan with the bread. I thought of the pioneer Laura Ingalls again. Thanks, Rose. My last lint-like piece of self-esteem was plucked from the depths of my soul.

I baked, wearing a wife-beater and knit shorts. Same thing I slept in. Kneading the bread was serious work. Working around the oven was fierce. My heavy hair was pulled on top of my head with a crazy series of clips and pins.

Once the bread got going, the smell filled the immediate neighborhood. That consisted of Cullen's house and of course my own.

I had just switched the first four loaves for the ones still needing baked. I used a large, beat up paddle my Dad had made from a sheet of metal and a shovel handle. It weighed seven pounds. Dad wasn't really a carpenter but he had good ideas. I placed the hot brown twisted loaves on the cooling rack, which was an old refrigerator shelf elevated on two fire-bricks. That invention sat on an old umbrella table, but the cats used it frequently for sunbathing, so even after a good scrubbing I didn't want the loaves to actually touch it.

I'd just leaned the paddle against the table and bent to rub a stick of butter over their tops of the bread when two strong hands grabbed me around the waist, lifted me off the ground and spun me in a circle. I screamed the whole time. My brain knew who it had to be, but fight or flight had already kicked in, so the screaming was loud enough to send my two old cats from their lawn chairs streaking into the woods.

"Belllaaa," my attacker screamed with me, the old glee back in his voice. About the third time around I saw Jasper and, you've got to be kidding, Edward Cullen round the side of my house. Two pairs of jeans, T-shirts, toned, arms, unguarded faces, Jasper grinning, Edward curious and pulling on his hair. I saw them briefly again the fourth time, and the fifth. Then I turned into the Tasmanian Devil, and McCarty sat me down. I forgot to rub the butter on his face. I sat there for a beat waiting for my head to stop spinning, and trying to put together a snarky comment.

"Hey look, little Bella's showing some skin and it's all sparkly in the sun," Emmet teased, standing over me, with his hands on the arms of the flimsy metal chair and his eyes like high-beams all over my face, arms and legs.

"Move McCarty," I ordered, straightening the little nakedy shirt I wore, and feeling my head swim. There were too many issues between McCarty, Jasper and I to leap back to good old times. There were issues between Cullen and myself as well. My personal life just sucked.

"Not unless I get some of that buckwheat," he sang in a threatening voice, stepping back so I could stand. Those eyes of his, they were dark, but not like Jacob's. Emmet had the best eyes. I always felt hope when I looked in them. I don't know why. He was such an idiot.

"There's five pounds on the kitchen table. I'll go grab that feeder bag Charlie kept for the mare."

He laughed, because he laughed at everything, which made everyone else laugh, especially when alcohol was involved, which it wasn't, but if it was, maybe we could all make that leap to 'not incredibly awkward.'

"Hey Bella," Jasper said stepping close and offering his knuckles for a limp bump.

"Jasper." I held up the stick of butter, its wrapper pealed back like a cornhusk, and smiled. Jasper dropped his fist and smiled back with his usual level of surrender. Since Alice had moved away, if not on, his handsome demeanor had sunk into a shabbier version of himself. I never thought I'd see such a change. He'd been one of the most even tempered people I'd ever met. His dark side was reserved for acts of heroism, beating up on the bad guys, standing up for the underdog. Now he wore 'poor me' as upfront as his blond hair. And when I used the butter to keep from knocking fists, he understood we had some things to talk about.

Natural progression. Edward's hands were in his pockets. He smiled, but there was some wariness in his handsome eyes, eyes that shot quickly over my body, and back to my gaze where they seemed to cling with uncertainty. "Hope we're not bothering you," he apologized. "The smell alone kind of grabbed us and dragged us over here. "

Jasper added, "Yeah, that would be Emmet. Sorry Bella, we tried to contain him."

I blew through my lips. Cullen loved to come off all polite. I already knew he couldn't be trusted.

Emmet had disappeared through my screendoor. "She's got 'em, Jazz. Two dozen. Oh little Bell, you were holdin' out on us." He came back out holding my tray of cinnamon rolls.

"How do you always know?" I motioned for him to set the tray next to the cooling loaves. He was such a boundary jumper.

"Third Saturday of the month!" He was bent over the loaves taking a deep breath. "And I'm helping your new neighbor level his pool table," he added, making the up and down eyebrows at me. "You little seductress. You can smell this over there like your head is in the oven."

"Speaking from experience?" Knifing him with the sad topic of breaking with Rose was a subtle revenge. Try to embarrass me in front of Cullen, and I will cut you.

"Better snatch him up, Miss Bella, he's bonifide," he elbowed me, throwing his beefy arm around my shoulders.

I wiggled from beneath Emmet's heavy limb. "Get your Boa Constrictor off me." I had to shrug a couple of times, deliberately setting myself up. Sexual innuendos were the best way to distract him from one topic to another.

"Oh Swannie, you want to meet my boa."

"I've met the inchworm. Don't make me go there." I felt Edward's stare against my cheek. No, I had not met the inchworm in the grittiest sense, but you couldn't grow up around Emmet McCarty and at some point not get introduced.

"That was third grade in the coatroom, and you did show me yours so let's not throw stones," he countered. "And after the parent teacher meeting your dad told me to keep it in my pants. That man changed my life."

"Emmet, man," Jasper laughed. Edward had his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

I had to laugh too, thinking of Dad, and the many times he had to deal with Emmet's outrageous streak. "Too bad you never took his advice." Yeah, that wasn't so funny either because now we were back to Rose.

We all got a little quiet. Rose and Charlie were topics still too raw for a sunny afternoon, with friends whom I had deserted and who had let me desert them because their sadness had been too much to add to my own.

"Take your boa in the house and get some plates and I might let you have a cinnamon roll." That was the best I could do.

"And some coffee?" Emmet asked like he was mentally five.

"If you make it." I had my limits.

I tipped each loaf from its pan and Jasper and Edward stepped closer to the table, with Jasper between Edward and me. They were sniffing, Jasper thunked the loaf explaining that the sound was just right. I'd taught him that in high school when Charlie had built the oven for Alice and me, a club project. Edward couldn't know that the fact that Jasper and Emmet could be here on a baking day, no matter how good the smell, showed a level of healing I hadn't seen before now.

They got into looking at the oven and talking about its door, Edward asking questions about the fire, the wood, Jasper an authority on it all, explaining how we had all baked during high school, raising lots of money for our senior trip, and how we'd kept it up through college, actually until a couple of years ago when everything went to hell, but Jasper skipped that part as none of us were ready to go there.

They ended up sitting on lawn chairs eating rolls. The guys ate at least three apiece. Edward was apologetic, asking each time if it was alright. I made a sweeping gesture with my hand. Anyone that good looking deserved to eat even if he could be an ass.

"So how is Miss Rosie?" Emmet finally asked, shoving the last bite into his mouth and chewing vigorously. The cinnamon rolls were Rose's specialty, afterall.

"You said you wouldn't ask. Last time I came in the store you said if you asked again I was supposed to slap you in the mouth." I ate my last bite, licking each finger and sucking on my thumb. When I met Edward's attentive gaze, I knew my cheeks flushed red.

Emmet nudged my bare leg with his tennis shoe. "Yeah it's not natural to not ask. You know?"

"Nothing natural about any of it," Jasper huffed, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Edward stood, obviously feeling in our way.

He collected our plates, sitting them near the cooling loaves.

"Thanks a lot, Bella. I am stuffed and that was insanely delicious. I know you and I got off to a rough start. I was wondering if you'd let me make it up…" His voice had a rich tone when he spoke softly. I almost missed what he was actually saying.

"No need to make it up. We do need to discuss some things," I replied, trying and failing to sound like I wasn't upset when I thought of the fact he'd been to the police station to make good his threat.

"Oh, you two got issues?" Emmet asked, genuinely surprised. "Oh wait, the cats. Yeah. Don't hate on the cats, Ed."

Now Edward's face was flushed. "It's not hate. I assure you, it's not. I think the old man who lived in my house…"

WE three spoke at once. I said, Mr. Brandon. Jasper said, Alice's dad. Emmet said, Old man Brandon.

Edward nodded, standing corrected. "Yeah, I think he fed them," he looked at me, "like you said, and they're just doing their thing. But there's too many of them. They're feral."

"They're not. Well, most of them aren't. Let's face it Edward, they don't like you." 

"Ohhhm," Emmet said looking at Edward, his eyes lighting up.

"And it's mutual," Edward said. "But I realize it's a neighborhood thing, I get that, so I say if you want to keep them around, stake your claim and take responsibility for your guys because the rest are needing…." He took a big breath and let it out slow, his eyes meeting mine again.

"You ain't gettin' no bread, bro," Emmet laughed.

Emmet was right. I'd waved the white flag. I already regretted it.

"Bella, this is in no way meant to upset you, or not respect your defense of these animals, but it's unbearable for me to let these animals take over." He seemed honest. I hadn't tried to see his side before. I wanted him to see mine. Because I was right.

"Dramatic," I sang taking a big gulp of coffee. I made herself look at him. "I talked to Jacob."

He looked confused.

"Jacob Black, Chief of Police, guess you didn't pay attention to the person behind the badge. He told me you'd been in, what you'd said."

Edward nodded, without shame of any kind.

"He told me about you wanting to throw your money around to save the day and kidnap these cats and haul them off to a shelter. Most of these cats are not going to make good house pets. The solution you offer where we all come together and take them home to live happily ever after isn't going to happen."

"You admit they're feral."

"I admit most of them have trust issues. They are not around people that much, and it's against their nature to trust strangers. If one of them is sick and we can't get them to the vet, then yes…oh go home." It all hit me. Jasper, Emmett, cats, the oven, Charlie's paddle. It all hit me. Again. I picked up two of the loaves and threw them at Cullen, who twisted around to save them, as if they were small children. Emmett shouted, "not the bread," but I didn't care. I bolted out of the chair and ran into the house, screaming something like, get the hell away from me. It was petulant and ridiculous and embarrassing, and I felt no control.

I could hear Emmet saying, "Dude…," but I ran to my room and slammed the door, locking it and refusing to answer, when Emmet came knocking. I must have finally fell asleep because it was pitch black outside when I awoke, the baked bread was on the table, the eight loaves outlining the shape of a heart. I had another good cry. I'd missed Jasper and Emmett. I missed the safe bubble we'd all created. I didn't see the next step and I was only thirty years old.

The next morning Cullen was at church. My church. He sat in the back kind of glowing in white and khaki. I couldn't have been more thrown if he'd wore a name tag saying he was the angel Gabriel.

Thinking of my black slacks and prim white blouse I could hear Rose whispering, "repressed librarian." I took my usual place, fifth from the back, right side. I could feel his gaze on the back of my head. And then his touch on my shoulder. He'd moved behind me. "Hey Bella. I wanted to thank you again for putting up with me, yesterday. I feel terrible…"

I turned slowly, a little taken aback that his head was right there. He had this face that slammed into me everytime. Why? Handsome, yes, but why such a punch? I looked into the eyes of the twenty or so neighbors spread around the pews who had nothing better to do than watch this exchange. Sam and his wife, Billy in his chair, Leah and her sister, Mrs. Cope, Mr. and Mrs. Newton. "Just forget it," I whispered to Cullen. He immediately slid back, but he stayed there. I knew we were supposed to have a better response to new people at church. I wondered if anyone had been able to read my lips. "Just forget about it," didn't look like, "welcome to our church." Not even close.

I felt heat wafting through me. Was this a hot flash? I was only thirty. I felt Cullen's stare. I reached back and gathered my hair and let it lay on my back, even spill over the pew. That might protect me from the green lasers. The service started and the minister told us to take a few minutes to greet our neighbors. I'd forgotten about this attempt to be forced to look at one another and be happy. I felt Cullen's tap again.

I leaned forward and gripped Dr. Gerandy's hand. He was a little surprised as I wasn't gregarious. I asked him how he was. He started to actually tell me, being cut off when greeting time was over. We all sat, and I smiled a little knowing I'd effectively thwarted Cullen's attempt to blather an apology. Then the sermon was on forgiveness and reconciliation. I had to get a good grip on the pew to keep my composure and resist the altar call and my attitude. I started to think of Charlie, always dragging me here, until it was my habit. Since his death I never missed. Someone had to hold the fort. But these sermons could be awfully hard to resist.

As soon as the service was over, Dr. Gerandy turned around to finish telling me about his knee surgery. I did care, but I was hyper attuned to where Cullen was. Had he left? I hoped so. Was he stalking me? At church? Was that possible, or was he just trying to worship, and get things right? Of course he was stalking. But I hadn't said I'd be here. Had he followed me? No, he'd been here first. Emmett and Jasper. Of course they'd told him my life story. I really needed to move. Alice and Rose had done it. What was the matter with me? I could go live with one of them. They begged me to come. Or they used to beg me. They hadn't begged me in a long time. They hadn't even come to see me in a long time. I was stuck. No one was begging. But the three men had come yesterday. Yeah, lured by bread. And Emmett and Jasper, as stuck as me. So what about Cullen? What was he doing in my backyard, what was he doing at Forks, and now this little church that only grew when someone had a baby?

What in the world was the deal with Cullen? He was obviously intelligent. Handsome, check. Well-off, check. Young, healthy, what in the world was he doing on my poor dunk road in my poor dunk town arguing about cats?

Why wasn't he in LA or New York, or in the movies, or on the cover of Forbes, or running for president?

Did I really think so highly of him? How did such a man end up sitting in my backyard on chairs I bought at Mrs. Cope's yardsale and rethreaded myself, eating cinnamon rolls baked in a terr-cotta igloo that he seemed excited over?

What was the deal with Edward Cullen? I'd accused him of not seeing Jacob behind the badge, but why was I just now realizing the incongruity and complete puzzle that was this ridiculously beautiful man?


	4. Chapter 4

Catwoman 4

He waits for me outside of the church, hands in pockets. His white shirt and tan pants crisply outline long limbs against the green grass and clear blue sky. The line of his shoulders is stronger than Jasper's but more graceful than Emmett's. His smile is close-lipped, his eyes are round with interest and his hair shines like a crown. Clean Shaven. I know he smells good—back at the church, yeah, I'd been sitting in it, near it, breathing it. I am slipping on my sunglasses to spare myself some of his magnificence, but all it does is soften the glare with a rich green patina and heighten his masculine outlines and angles, pulling me with interest. Parked along the street is the silver Volvo he drives. I think it's made of melted harps.

My beater is parked a bit beyond, a faded red classic behemoth Charlie bought me in high school. It had been just enough of a vehicle to get me around Forks, but not too far, and if I had an accident in its tank-like shell, I was most likely the one coming out of it, at least that was Charlie's psychology. I never tested the theory.

"I like this little church," Edward says, looking over my shoulder at the thick brown-stoned building that looks like a small gingerbread and stained glass castle.

I join Edward's perusal, nodding my head with approval. "Many of my most poignant moments have taken place here." I'm talking in terms of marriages, deaths, and sessions of convicting guilt smeared with a kind of peace.

Pastor Ben bursts out of the arched wooden door, black robe slung over his arm. The much taller Angela hurries behind him, pulling three year old Riley with her.

"C'mon you two," Ben says good naturedly, gesturing to Edward and me. "The diner gets jammed if we don't beat the Methodists."

"Pastor Cheney," he introduces himself to Edward, gripping his hand, and pulling him forward.

"Edward Cullen," he says, allowing Ben to turn him toward the street, even while he looks at me, laughter in his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.

"Wife Angela, son Riley," Ben gestures, but he never really stops. "You two coming? It's cubed-steak today, with brown gravy."

Ben has moved on to his car. Angela stoops toward the backseat helping Riley into his car-seat. "Might as well come, Bella. If you keep putting him off we'll just move closer to the holidays, and he'll draft you into all kinds of work," she straightens. "And you, Edward, this could stave off the deacons calling on you when you're trying to watch television in your boxers. They never phone first." She moves swiftly into the front seat where Ben is already starting the car.

And that's how we end up in the cracked red vinyl booth at Fork's diner, eating cubed steak and laughing at Ben's stories about Emmett McCarty in high school. Angela's father was the coach at Fork's high, so there was lots of material.

Ben was good. I'd learned more about Edward than I would have learned on my own.

I was wedged into one side of the booth with Angela. I sat across from Edward. He shared with Ben, and now Riley, who'd been loosed from the booster seat strapped to a chair, and knelt in the small space between the two men.

Edward's crisp white shirt had a smear of catsup on the shoulder where Riley had leaned against him casually munching a fry. Edward had been gracious, though on some level, he was a little thrown, but not thrown enough to accept Angela's Tide stick.

I accidently bumped Edward's foot for the third time. I apologized, "Oh sorry," just so he'd be clear I wasn't trying to play footsies. However, somewhere during the cherry pie, I felt Edward's feet trap one of my own. When I shot him a look, he smiled. He tapped the side of his shoe against the side of mine to let me know he was aware of what he was doing. I pulled my feet all the way back, my heels softly thudding against the booth. What the heck?

He was telling Ben and Angela about his success in the cell phone business, and how he got out. For years he'd lived at a high stress point, on call twenty-four hours a day. Then his mother, Elizabeth, had gotten sick, and it had been expensive. For a while he'd worked harder than ever, answering his fear for his mother with more work. But in the end, time became the most important thing. He tried to spend every waking moment with her, learning to give her much of the care she required.

She'd died a little over a year ago. After she was gone, he'd sold his company. Sense of the shortness of time and all that. I certainly understood. We had this great sad thing in common. Coming to Forks was him seeking a type of idealism, it sounded like to me. Forks was how he put the brakes on. I didn't know how to tell him, life would keep happening, even in Forks.

It was happening to me, as I observed him and wondered at this effect. My eyes were welling with tears as I sensed his sadness, his sweetness. I had to ask Angela to let me out of the booth. Being Angela, she followed me into the nasty little bathroom. I told her I was fine as I rinsed my face, but Angela and Ben faced people's sadness for a living, so she patted my back the whole time, inviting me to spill.

"I just had a flash back of you patting my back while I hurled into Alice's toilet during a party once," I said, drying my face on a paper towel.

She laughed at that. "Which time?"

"Oh come on, I wasn't that bad," I said as she smoothed some hair behind my ear.

"Edward Cullen is quite the guy," she said.

"He's my neighbor," I warned her.

"Don't make me quote Scripture at you."

"If you're a cat, he could be straight from the fiery place."

"Why's that?"

I told her about the cat dilemma. "Bella, don't you dare let those cats ruin your chance to get to know Edward. It's Eve and Adam, not Eve and Tabby."

"Angela…it's an emotional issue. The cats I mean. The cats." I wiped a couple of fresh leaks.

"Talk to Ben. He majored in conflict resolution. He's practically King Solomon."

"No, no, don't bring it up." I tossed the paper towel. "Another thing, Cullen's messing with my foot under the table."

"Just now?"

"Yeah, just now. When else?"

"I mean…what does that mean?"

"I don't know. He's like tapping my foot and stuff."

"Seriously? Is that pervy to you?"

"No idea."

"You can tell he's interested. He looks mostly at you. All the time. Even if you pick up your fork, his eyes go right to your hand."

"I threw bread at him."

"What? Like during communion?"

"No. Yesterday, at my house, I threw bread at him. Two loaves. He was talking about the cats…"

I gave her a few more details, but it still sounded nuts.

So we ended up laughing on our way back to the booth. My ricocheting emotions made me feel a little drunk, but I'd only had a Pepsi. Ben was chattering away, but Edward's gaze was on me. He seemed concerned. And his beauty left me kind of amazed, like always. Riley was sitting on his lap, rubbing his grimy napkin over Edward's face. Edward was gentle in response, smiling at Riley and thanking him for cleaning his face so well.

"Oh, Riley, you need to get off of Mr. Cullen, now. He can wipe his own face," Angela said with apology.

Ben and Edward went back and forth over paying for the meal, with Ben going to the counter for the check, and Edward blocked by Riley. We said good-bye to the Cheney's in the parking lot with a loose commitment to get together some evening. To cover my unease, I said we should also ask Emmett so he'd have a chance to add his perspective to Ben's.

"Good-bye, Edward."

"Bella," he followed me to the driver's side, reaching around me to open my door, "I hope I didn't upset you in there when I brought up my mother."

He was close so I slowly angled myself away. "No. I'm not that delicate. I just…the grief just comes out of nowhere. Like yesterday. It wasn't you guys. Just…memories."

"I understand. Believe me."

"I…shouldn't have thrown that bread. I mean…there's a restaurant in Missouri where I've heard they throw hot rolls…." I looked at him, and he was smiling.

"I didn't let it hit the ground, you know. I kind of feel like I earned those two. I mean..."

I laughed a little, and it grew quiet, so we kind of looked at one another for a moment. "I'm glad you told us about your mom. It helps to share those things. I think. But some days…it makes it worse. There's just no formula here." I sighed, also aware I'd made him sound like the keynote speaker at grief group. With him standing so close, and living so close, I knew I was pushing for some space. "What was that thing with your foot?" I said.

"Oh, sorry about that. I was trying to get you to see Riley's hand behind my arm. He was secretly wiping his greasy little hand on the back of my shirt while he munched a fry. Edward turned to show me the crumpled shoulder area.

"Yep, throw that one away."

We laughed a little. I felt a tiny bit of disappointment, but also relief. I was all over the place. "His dad bought you that seven dollar lunch, and his son ruined a forty dollar shirt. I'd say you've had a profitable afternoon, Mr. Cullen."

"I'd have to agree, Miss Swan. I really like the three of them. I think Riley could light a cigarette and take a few puffs before Ben would interfere. And what is a Tide stick?"

"You have many mysteries to yet unlock, young grasshopper." When I resorted to 'grasshopper' quotes it was definitely time to take a scrap of dignity home.

I got in the car then and Edward closed my door. He stayed by my window so I started the car and rolled the glass down.

"When we get home," he made it sound like we lived together. There was that road of 'ill will' between us, even if he had called it 'good intentions,' "I wonder if I could collect on my bread. I think you kind of owe me considering I caught both of them with the skill from four years of quarterbacking for the Chicago Comets."

"Oh.…" I thought of the heart arrangement the loaves were in on my table. I'd yet to break it apart. But more than that, he was prolonging this. He was lonely. He was kind of up for grabs. Of maybe he just liked bread.

"Sure," I said.

He jammed his hands back in his pockets. "I mean…if you're busy…"

I took in a breath. Of course he was close enough that the breathing didn't help. "See you at the house." Now I'd made it sound like we lived together.


	5. Chapter 5

Catwoman 5

I hate the self-consciousness I now feel while working in my yard. With Cullen's big windows, I never know when he is watching. Normally awkward, I find myself judging myself while doing the most plenary task. Starting the mower, I'm pulling at the front of Dad's long-sleeved shirt making sure Edward can't see my boobs jiggle or something while I yank the dang cord again and again because without Dad it isn't properly maintained, just used and abused, rode hard, put away wet, whatever.

Finally it coughs to life, the cats scuttering under my tomato plants, but it dies in two seconds, and I start pulling and cursing again.

Well, I'd given Cullen his bread last Sunday. He'd waited politely on the porch. He seemed terribly interested in my sunflowers. Wanted to know if I had it in for the birds, attracting so many of them with all of the predators waiting in the shadows. I told him Sunflowers were Charlie's favorite. They'd originally come up voluntarily because Charlie always fed the birds, then we grew them as a novelty because the last thing Forks had too much of was sun.

He said Forks also lacked a few other things, but more than made up for it with others. I didn't touch that remark. Kind of reminded me of Jake, but in a better way.

"So the sunflowers are just the top of the foodchain," he concluded, trying to be funny or cleaver, I think, but I didn't laugh, and he thanked me for a great afternoon, then walked gracefully off with his bread under each arm like the footballs he somehow imagined they were. I remembered he'd been a quarterback. I could just imagine the long line of females who'd fought to do his bidding. I pictured the blonde and the redhead polishing his trophies. I didn't like them.

And speak of the devil, the blond showed up a few hours ago. She was in the house with him for the entire four hours since I'd gotten off of work. Now they were strolling around the grounds surrounding his house. She wore an orange suit, and high heels, the kind that aerated his lawn as they wandered about.

I thought back to yesterday when I'd gone to see McCarty at the hardware store. I brought him two loaves. He gave me a discount on a new hose. "Rose got a promotion," he told me as he swiped my card.

"Stay off of Facebook," I whined.

"Ah, she deserves it, I'm sure. Climbing the stairway to heaven, that Rosie. You wanna bag?"

"No. And she does deserve it, and she'll never change her status, but it's still single and don't ask me another thing because you and she are done so move on."

"I'll carry this out for you," he says, twinkly like usual, but with a bit of sadness, like he's gone from a good old hundred watt bulb to one of the new duller energy efficient ones we're all supposed to be happy over.

"Emmett," I say motioning for him to chuck that hose in the truck's bed, "I've decided I'm tired of being sad. Aren't you?"

He leans one of his boa's against the side of my truck. "Sad who?" he grins.

I tell him about lunch with Ben and Angela, and how they'd plied Edward with some of Emmett's sins.

"That's okay," he says, "Ben only thinks he knows my sins." Evil grinning boy. He tells me he'll be over to do some repairs for me. He'd noticed some things last Saturday. I plan to cook for him.

"Bring Jazz if he's on the high side of his cycle," I tell him.

"Oh man," he looks off. "No guarantees. I'll tell him to bring his guitar."

"No Patsy Kline," I say. "If he plays, Is That All There Is, we're putting him in the oven."

"Oh, he just saves that for birthday parties," Em says, tugging on my ponytail, and we're about sixteen again for one flashing moment. Yeah, when I turned thirty, Jasper sang Is That All There Is, at my bar-be-que. But since Alice left, the blues are all he sings.

On the way home, I wondered what I was doing? I wasn't moving forward I was trying to resurrect the dead. Maybe Jasper and Emmett and myself needed to forget about carrying on. We'd had a good time on Saturday, the old memories…which then got to me. Maybe Cullen had made it better for a while. We just needed some new blood.

And so it got out of hand and I'd invited Angela and Ben and Riley to come also. Well I was going to ask Mr. Cullen, but forget it now. I didn't want the blond getting the wrong idea, no I didn't want Cullen to get the wrong idea. I was a woman living on my own. He was a bachelor, and I needed to be careful not to send the wrong message. Not a Booty-call, Mr. Cullen. Not a booty-call.

And yet, here's the sick thing, just the excitement of him being around had somehow motivated me to get my old friends together. Now how did that make sense? Had I been rallying them just to have a reason to invite Cullen without raising his suspicion that I really wanted to spend some time getting to know him?

Overthinking again. Always overthinking. Or underthinking. That had been a problem too on more than one occasion. The worst combination, underthinking and overdrinking. Ew. No good.

So, I'm pulling the thingy on the mower, and cursing up a storm, and spying on Cullen and the girl who are walking around the yard, viewing the house at different angles, arm in arm and all. I shove my hat more tightly to my head as all of this bending over is making my hair come unpinned, and it's exploding from beneath the hat. I'm sweating like a short glass of Coke on a hot Texas day, even though this is Gawd-awful Forks. And finally the mower rumbles to life.

It kind of takes off as it's self-propelled, and I run behind it, letting out a small whoop, which I immediately determine to never, ever do again. I try to get some control but this beast is always as determined as a goat in heat. And I don't know a thing about goats either.

I've made one wavy cut, but it's coming back to me, the skill, the determination, so I line up for another swipe, as my yard is sizeable. I'm making my fourth pass when something like a vehicle whizzes past me. I scream and put one hand on my chest, which makes my mower go at a crazy angle.

The thing that passed me was Cullen, riding a shiny new mower, the kind you stand on. This thing is like a gigantic monster mouthed vacuum. Cullen guides it over my wavy swathes, and it's as wide as what I've cut. He works levers to bring it up close to the big tree he's circling around as he makes his way back to me where I'm standing, my hands slack on my mower's handle, the lever of which I've let go shutting the thing off, after two good hacking coughs which I barely heard because Cullen's mower has the same engine as the space shuttle.

He shoots me one look, a big smile, and I have to bring my loose hanging jaw up to my upper teeth, and my teeth clack, I can feel the reverberation as he zooms past. I look over at his house, and the blonde and the rental car are gone. Cullen is wearing these loose cargo shorts, so he didn't even change before he came over here riding the hovercraft. I am so confused.

And I know I'll invite him to my cookout now. I just will.

When he's finished, he parks the mower behind my truck, and steps off. I'm waiting on the front porch, out of the sun, hatless, not shirtless, but without the long-sleeved one, holding a glass of tea towards him. He is wearing gloves, and he pulls these off now, shoving them in his back pocket. He's grinning at me, very proud and all. He takes the tea, our fingers brush and I shut down the tingle that kind of tries to rocket up my arm. I just tell it, "No," in my brain, and the feeling kind of dissipates.

He's got a backwards baseball cap on. Real cute. I'm kind of dying to tell him there's no need, absolutely no need to think he has to cut my grass and he says, "I have a proposition for you." Never thought I'd hear those words.

But of course he wants bread.

"I'll help with the baking, I know it's a lot of work, but when you do it, just don't forget me. I want to help, so let me know, but I'd cut your yard and most of those woods behind your house for anything you bake."

His eyebrows are raised at me as he takes a deep drink, working his throat in a good way, and I so admire his…health.

I am feeling kind of dry, too, swallowing rather loudly as he drains that glass and hands it to me. Yes, he'd like another. So he follows me into the house.

"Oh wow," he says upon entry. He'd only seen the kitchen on Sunday. And I didn't realize that. When he'd brought in the loaves he tells me. The heart. They'd been arranged into a heart.

So…are you the heart maker? Breaker?

He doesn't volunteer this information, and I can't ask outright. I'll ask Jasper.

He likes the room. He's wiping his feet, and I tell him it's okay, but he kicks off his shoes. I have really thick shag throw rugs, and he likes that, "oh these are great," he says.

"Yeah, it's a little different, scares some people," I say, motioning to the ceilings I painted a little creatively.

"It's artsie," he says. That word is a big no for me. But when he says it, I'm open. It's okay.

In the kitchen he sits at the counter on one of the high stools. He hooks his feet on the rungs, and I pour him more tea, throw in a sprig of mint, hand him the glass.

"What are you making? I'm just pathetic around you, like hungry. Are you always cooking?" He's suddenly next to me and we're looking in my crockpot. I'm stirring this vegetable soup I've made from things out of my garden. It's a lot of color, and flavor. Yeah I'm quite the cook, and he's close, and so interested. I worry he's faking, but he seems sincere. I think of Blondie, so perfect. I've just wrestled a bear, so I hope it's just the soup that's odiferous.

Oh, he's picking grass out of my hair. Did he say he was hungry around me?

"I'm having a bar-be-que Friday around four. You've met everyone, I think. I hope you can come."

"I'd love to come," he sets his glass on the counter, holding a little haystack from my haystack.

I smile. We get stuck there for a few seconds, him looking at me, me noticing everything.

"Would you…would you like some soup?"

"I would, Miss Swan. I would kill a cat for some of that soup."

Hmmm. I should make him pay for that. "No need, Mr. Cullen," I grab a bowl from the open shelf and dish him up a portion, "I already did." I hand him his soup then lift one brow. I'm good at that look. It's my signature. And yeah, he doesn't know what hit him.

I get myself some soup and we sit at the counter, about two feet apart. It's all chance.

I slice us some bread and we eat pretty quietly except when I slurp like really loudly, and he laughs and I say sorry, then, "used to eating alone."

Could I be more gross?

"So…Edward, I couldn't help but notice…you have family?"

"This is so freakin' good," he says between bites.

I eat and wait, so deeply pleased to see his enthusiasm.

He wipes his lips on the napkin I've provided. "Well, yes, Bella, I have a family. Mom's passed as you know, but there's a cousin, James, an uncle and aunt, Carlisle and Esme. And this might be the best vegetable soup I've ever eaten. Really Bella, you are quite the chef."

I want to deflect this, but I'm insanely proud for some reason, and of course I know I'm the color of a strawberry. There was a lilt in his voice when he'd complimented me, but he hadn't said, this is the best sex I've ever had, he'd said soup. Soup. I swear I was having a hard time hearing the difference.

"You're blushing," he says, like I'm the most adorable thing in creation. I am scrambling for a topic that will take the spotlight off of me. "Oh, well, the woman…I couldn't help but notice while I was out there working…is she your girlfriend?" It just sounds wrong, just nosey and desperate-librarian-like.

"You're asking if she's my girlfriend?" he clarifies, now slurping a bit himself.

"You don't have to answer."

He laughs at this. "I don't?"

"No. I don't have any right to be this nosey old…" I just can't say spinster, I just can't, so I gulp some water.

"Are you curious about this particular woman, or my relationship status in general?" he turns the stool toward me, his knees open, very near my thigh.

I look away, back into my bowl. Hello greenbeans. "I was just wondering about the woman today…just making…conversation."

"That was Tanya. She's…a good friend. When Mom got sick, she was the one who enabled me to take time off. She was my right arm, and when I sold the company, I made sure she was left in a good position."

I tried not to choke on that one.

"Hmmm," he laughed a little, ate some more. He was scraping his bowl now, which I took and refilled. He didn't protest.

"Thank you," he said slicing more bread for himself and for me. I had no appetite, suddenly, but I thanked him since we were being so polite.

"I still consult. She brings a load of work every couple of weeks, I help her sort it out. She's on my circle. Of support," he says, his look like ocular intercourse.

"Support for…?"

"Life. You know, the people who are there for you?"

"Oh yeah. I just didn't know your term. I thought of Lion King when you said circle…it's weird. I'm not making fun."

He was laughing again. So was I. I was so full of it.

"Now you tell me something juicy."

"No fair. You have sources. Emmett McCarty's mouth is as big as everything else. I know he probably said all kinds of embarrassing stuff about me."

"No, on the contrary. He speaks very highly of you. To be honest, before I understood more about your relationship, I thought he was a boyfriend or something."

"Um, no."

"I got that. He's carrying a torch for one woman."

"He did not tell you that," I groaned, folding my arms on the counter.

"Yes. We covered the late nineties, up to the present over a couple of games of pool. Met in gradeschool. Love at first sight. A little bit of Heather Locklear with a splash of Britney Spears. Fighting off every male in this part of the state all through high school all four years. Fighting off every other male in the northern hemisphere for six years of college, well for her, two years of junior college for him. Ten thousand miles of travel over that time. She moves for her job. Five more thousand miles of road. Break up. Make up. Engagement. Invites in the mail. Big explosion. She gets promoted. He's left to rot in the hardware store he bought so he could give her everything she ever wanted, but now she's gone." He takes a big breath and keeps eating.

"Oh you poor thing." I put my head on my arms and try not to laugh.

"It's okay. He's a really good guy. I like Emmett." He's finished his food.

I made cookies, but I don't want to seem like I'm bragging. But I feel so sorry that he had to hear Emmett's broken record. Why do I carry this personal responsibility about Emmett McCarty's overbearing pain?

I get up and grab the cookie jar and bring it to the counter. I take off the lid and he looks inside. "Holy cow," he says fishing in the jar and pulling out two, one for him, one for me.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he kind of blurts.

"Oh. Okay."

"And a…you don't have a boyfriend. You really don't date anymore. Let's see, there was Eric and Tyler. Paul. Mike was a serious one. And Jacob. That one you almost married," he pointed at me holding the cookie.

"Enough."

He looked sharply at me. "Oh, Bella. I'm sorry. I was on a roll, I didn't mean…"

"Were you guys laughing about me, just having a good old time with all my business?"

"No, no, it wasn't like that. Emmett just had a few beers, too many. He speaks highly of you, but I guess after we were over here and I saw you, I asked if you were single, just so curious about you, you know…neighbors? And he told me some extra stuff, just all at once. It wasn't like he went on and on, just like…I'm so sorry, Bella. I just got careless in the way I said that. I'm so sorry."

"No, I get it. It's just hard to hear things just said like that. I'm actually a really private person. I…I probably need to…I have some work."

"Oh yeah, I didn't mean to fall in. Bella…please tell me it's good between us. I don't want to leave you like this. I'll probably end up back here knocking on your door. Please forgive me."

"I'm not mad. Just thrown. I reserve the right to get thrown."

I quickly found a plastic bag and crammed a handful of cookies in it. "Here. Olive branch." My smile was weak. It was the best he was going to get.

"Bella…Emmett and Jasper…I think they need you. So don't be mad at them. I think you've been a really amazing friend to them. I liked being around you all. I think you're great together. When he talked about growing up like that, I envied it. That was what I felt, envy. Bella, you're the most interesting woman. You don't even know it. I've never known someone like you. So it's just not okay that I haven't conveyed that. You, Emmett, Jasper, the lunch last Sunday with Ben and Angela, and Riley's little greasy hands…I'm glad I came here." Now he's a deep red color.

I was biting my lip really hard, trying not to get emotional. I just nodded.

He walked to the door and I followed, keeping my eyes down. He'd made me feel so much. I was glad he'd moved here, too.

He stepped onto the porch and I stood on the threshold.

"I'm looking forward to your shindig this weekend. What can I bring?"

"Whoever you want," I was such a liar. I didn't want him to bring the blonde one or the other one with the flaming red hair. I hadn't even asked who she was yet, but he said he was single.

He was laughing. "What can I bring? What?"

"Oh. Just yourself. And some root beer. Or nothing. Just yourself."

"Root beer it is."

"And…I never dated Paul."

He looks thrown for a moment. "Oh. Okay. I shouldn't have said anything…"

"And Mike was serious. And…I haven't been interested in anyone for a long time. Just so you know. And I think you're a good neighbor, but the cat situation...I'm wondering where you're at on that. That bugs me."

"I'm ready to get some guys out here to trap them. The ones that are too far gone can be destroyed as humanely as possible, and for the others a no kill shelter." He has a pleasant expression.

"What's your compromise? Just curious." I say, nervously flicking my doorknob.

"That is my compromise. I've thought about everything you've said, Bella. And I've really taken your feelings into consideration. I won't do anything until you're ready, with some kind of cut-off date you help me set in the event you never get ready." 

"Okay, that makes no sense."

"No it does. If you can't decide, then a non-decision is your decision. You help me work out a date we can act by. Say before snow flies. I consider this year pretty much of a loss for now. I'm using some repellent, but it doesn't work very well. I know you've had a hard year and I don't want to add to it. You're the most important thing."

"Until the cut-off date."

"That you help me set."

"I want to like you, Edward. But I don't trust you. I know this seems like a solution to you, but I don't care. You can't just move in here and tell me how to think on this."

"Am I right or wrong about these animals, Bella?"

"You think you're right."

"These cats are out of control. Do you want Riley to pick one up when he visits this weekend? What if he goes in your garden and trips on some cat feces?"

"You're actually serious. What if he does? What if the sky falls in? What if I take back my cookies, Edward? What then?"

"Bella, don't get upset. We'll still talk about everything. But this is conservation. This is responsibility."

"Cold-hearted. Not everything needs managed without any regard for…life."

"This is about life. My life. Yours. Riley's."

"Oh for heaven sake do not cover your anal retentive bull-feces with Riley. Feces? Who says that?"

"Okay, shit, Bella. There is cat-shit everywhere."

"It's in the woods. So what? There's all kinds of shit in there."

Now he raises a brow at me.

"No shit, Edward."

He laughs but it's nerves. "It's a sensitive issue. Just think it over. That's all for now. Don't get upset. We can work it out without attacking one another."

I don't slam my door, but I do push it closed thoroughly, and ignore his attempts to call me out on the porch. I turn off the lights as the sun has set, and end up in my room again, door closed. Yeah, I need to pull back. There is nothing there. I don't need him anywhere around me. He cut my grass. I fed him. He's a deceptive package. It's a no-brainer to find him attractive. He's a manipulator. I am lonely. It's repulsive to admit, but I freaking am, and he's made me aware of that. So thank you Edward Cullen. Now go away.

I'll go to the city, see Rose and Alice, get some perspective.

But oh yeah, I have a shindig, as he called it. I have that thing to get through. If I cancel there would be questions from Angela and Ben. But the thought of all of them, even Riley, invading my space, my sanctuary from them, depresses me.

I am really angry with Emmett especially, telling this pompous yardstick all of my business. My personal history. Oh big joke. I pick up my phone and text Emmett, rather hatefully, then delete it. He'll just hurry over here.

I'll get through this thing. I've no one to blame but myself for some temporary social-insanity. Then I'll leave, fortify, detach, come home, pick up where I've left off.

I look in the mirror over my dresser. One word. One word. Spinster.


	6. Chapter 6

Catwoman 6

I like Alice's apartment. She's moved since my last visit to this older four-family flat, that she's decorated in a shabby, retro way. The rooms are in a row, shot-gun style. I'm sitting in her sun room, but I can follow the blonde wood floors straight through the living room, into the room she uses for the master, then a smaller doorway gives a view into a galley eat-in kitchen. Off of that is the bathroom with porcelain tile and a big white tub, then in the back of the house is another bedroom.

It has taken me five hours to drive here from Forks, but I've enjoyed my time in the rental car. It is such a quiet vehicle, and so easy to maneuver. Power steering is a great invention, and cruise control is ridiculous.

The ride has afforded me plenty of time to process the gathering at my home that transpired the Friday evening before. I'd left Forks after that. The next morning. I had to get away after an evening with my friends. It's not that they were to blame in anyway. I just couldn't be in their proximity anymore.

Their brand of love. Straight jacket of good intentions. Emmett and the jokes. Me not laughing. Him trying harder. But mostly, my fleeing had to do with Edward. Here's how it was, here's how it happened:

Friday night, I got off of work late. Thank you, Jacob Black. I was working like a whirling dervish when he showed up all buckley and patchy. The uniform was very familiar to me, and always made me a little sad because of Charlie. But it made me a little glad too, and although Charlie was more wiry and Jacob more bulky, if I squinted and cut off Jacob's head and ignored his arms, I could pretend for a few seconds it was Dad.

"H…howdy there," I said, doing my photo shop thing.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" he asked, palms flat on my desk, arms spread wide.

I wanted to say, hold that position, because with his arms out like that I could almost chop them right off, and yeah, Charlie wasn't in there at all.

I blinked hard a few times and took off my black rimmed glasses. "Too much computer work. What can I do for you?"

I was looking up, sitting before him on my ergonomically correct office chair.

"Well, I hear a certain girl has been firing up the oven again."

I tried to turn a grimace into a smile. "Last Saturday. Yes."

He leaned forward. Whitest teeth in humankind. "Where do I put my order?"

I was pursing my lips, pulling them back. Pursing my lips, pulling them back.

"It's a mood thing, Jake."

"Next time the mood hits, let me know." Big white.

I picture myself flashing from the chair, grabbing his gun out of the holster, holding it to 'the order,' and threatening to fire while he begs like a little baby.

I rub at my eyes. "I…yi yi." Weak smile. Urgency to get out of here and mix my potato salad.

"Then McCarty tells me you're cooking dinner. What's a guy gotta do to get into a place like that?"

"Like my home?"

"Just tell me when and how."

"Okay." Am I imagining the double entendres? "Tonight. As soon as you let me get out of here. Bring Leah, of course."

He's a little shot down. Would he not bring Leah? "Yeah, sure. Anything else? She'd kill me if she knew I'd crashed."

Add that to the list of good reasons why she should kill you. "Um, no. What time are you off?"

"I'm off now."

"That's cool." Cool, Bella? So not cool. So not.

So even though my exchange with Jacob took a few minutes, it was the thing that put me there for the student who would need another thirty minutes of my time to order books from a neighboring campus.

So when I finally made it home, I didn't have a minute to wave to Edward who was leaning against a big red convertible talking to the woman with the big red hair. She wore a sundress with no back to it, and just two stripes of fabric over her breast pillows, so hardly no top at all. I shoved the truck's door with my hip, carrying four bags and a twelve pack of soda.

Here he came, a light jog. We still hadn't talked since the door closing in his face incident. I liked the gray T-shirt and the jeans but he was such a manwhore none of that mattered.

"Bella, wait. I'll help you." He's trying to grab my bags, but one is twisted on my wrist. He's touching me all over. It's like I got out of my car and he's attacking me. Get out of my way. And over his shoulder, the flaming Amazon princess, is making her way toward us. Big impressive body, if you're into big roundy boobs and those 1950's heavy type hips right out of Mad Men.

I snatch my arm away from Edward. "I've got it! I mean…" I head for the door. He's in pursuit with my twelve pack and the two bags he managed to wrench away.

"Say Bella, I'd like you to meet a friend, Vickie, and I was wanting to make sure I could bring a date."

I'm trying to unlock my door, but now I drop my keys. I don't think I can stoop to pick them up, but he does it anyway, reaching around my bare legs to retrieve them, handing them to me as he takes another bag away. I unlock the door. I turn. I smile. Vickie stands behind him. "Great. Please, come in. If you're willing…I could use the help."

I march across the living room into the kitchen. She's saying 'cute' he's saying 'artsy.' He's showing my house like it's the Sistine chapel. Telling her how to think about it, because that's his specialty. They enter my kitchen, him leading because we know how he likes to dominate, her still behind him, dusting her hands together. One of my cats smooshes past her, rubbing himself on her ankle. She jumps and screams a bit. I decide I didn't see it.

I'm unpacking bags. I toss Edward some matches. "Light my fire." I smirk as I turn toward the sink and wash my hands.

Edward takes the citronella candles off the kitchen table to the backyard and starts to place them on the two tables I've already covered back there. I hear him yell scat at a cat.

"Start the bar-be-que," I yell. Then, "So, Vickie, can you work an apple peeler?" I can see the French manicure from here. She isn't quite over the, light my fire, thing. Her eyes have this cold glaze. But I could be imagining it. I kick off my shoes by the backdoor, and get out the peeler, unbag the red and green apples.

"I made the dough last night. I'll roll it out. You peel."

"That looks like a job for Edward. He loves contraptions." Vickie's voice is like a cocktail, a mix of sweet and bitch.

"Edward told me you're very domestic," she takes a seat at the counter. Warming the chair seems right down her alley. She makes 'domestic' sound like I snort drugs.

I pull a baked chicken out of the fridge and set it before her with an empty bowl. "Hey, can you pull the meat off of that and put it in this bowl?"

"Wha…?" she says, like I've also asked her to wring its neck and gut it.

"Yes," I say washing the fruit. "My friends call me the domestic repressed librarian pioneer."

My back is to her, and I've got this really big smile on my face. I know she's staring at that chicken like 'what the?'

"Self-deprecation. Quite the charmer." She says with a sneer. "I don't touch meat."

I whirl around holding the apples against my 2011 chest. Oh, self-control. "I didn't know. What do you do, Vickie?"

Edward is back, matches in hand. "Does citronella repel felines?"

"Do men peel apples?" I counter. I can't believe he'd go right for the wound. The cat wound. Felines and feces and vegetarians. We've got issues.

He's intrigued by the apple peeler. He can't get over it, really. "Where have you been?" I have to ask. "You can buy these at any hardware store. Emmett sells these."

"I have completely overlooked this. Look, Vickie, the peel is in one long piece!" He's kind of giddy and oblivious to the chilly climate in the room. He's holding up a long green strip, his eyes more green than the peel, his face so beautiful. "We should save these. We could hang these for the birds!"

"Poor little birdies," Vickie says, looking accusatorily at me. "Let me try the peeler."

What a phoney. She's acting all interested in the peeler for Edward's benefit. She was his Cruella Deville. She may not eat meat, but she'd wear a cat-skin coat alright.

Men are so clueless. He eagerly makes room for her to help, warning her not to hurt her soft little paw as she puts the apple on the sharp silver dowel and turns the red plastic handle. She seems all hyper about it. Clapping her little vegetarian hands while I pretend not to watch, too busy ripping the chicken off the carcass because hey, I have some really big carnivores on the way, well Emmett, and Jake. They'll be hungry.

Edward is truly fascinated by the apple pie making process. He insists on rolling the dough, putting it in the pan. He can't believe I can stir the apple filling without measuring anything. He tastes one of the apples and says, "Perfect." I try not be dazzled. Is he aware of his ability to do that? Vickie is. She's been dazzled more than a few times. I think of all the words that rhyme with dazzled, and I make up a couple. Yeah, she's been all of those words.

She watches me, one side of her mouth lifted, her arms folded, as if trying to keep herself clean while she simpers and coos at Edward and his pie. When it's in the oven, and he goes back outside to check the fire, she pretends to use the bathroom and ends up snooping through all of my rooms. When Edward is back inside, she senses it and immediately beckons him to the back of the house. He shoots me this condescending look like, what's a guy to do? And, you're so cute, little Bella, thanks for letting me come early and bring my unexpected uninvited DATE. They're gone so long I seriously consider putting the chicken bones in her purse.

He's a little flushed when they come in the kitchen, and his hair looks a little more explosive. I have just put the dip together, and I shove it in the oven and slam the door.

"See if the fire's ready," I tell him. "You do know how to bar-be-que, I take it."

The apple pie joy is wiped away from him now. He's very serious. He nods obediently and hurries outside. She saunters into the kitchen on her clicky heels, looking through one of my year books. "Hello, Emmett McCarty," she reads, smirking.

She's insatiable. She's picking out her next victim like my yearbook is the menu.

"It's funny you should mention him," I'm finally mixing the potato salad. "He's coming here tonight. He's a good buddy." Claws off.

"Yeah, Edward told me about his and Jasper is it? Is lil' ol' Emmett single?" she asks eagerly. For all she knows, he could be my boyfriend. I catch myself over-mixing. "I don't know," I lie, whacking the wooden spoon on the side of the bowl.

"What are you and Edward?" I ask suddenly very busy putting Press N Seal over my potato salad.

Since she doesn't answer I look up. She presses her lips together and turns a little imaginary key like it's stuck in between her big red lip sandwich, then she proceeds to toss the non-existent key over her naked shoulder.

"Is this like Charades?" I put the salad in the fridge and pull out fixings for a salad. I never realized before, but a carrot could be a weapon. And a cucumber? Don't get me started.

"Oh, Edward and I go way back." I refuse the mental picture that presents itself.

"How far?"

"Our families."

"So you knew him in his glory days?"

"Let me tell you something about Edward…"

My least favorite sentence opening, "Let me tell you something."

"Edward," she continues, taking a piece of celery from my cutting board, "has had nothing but glory days. Until he moved here."

I stop chopping and she and I look at one another for a few seconds. She is a very pretty woman. Maybe even beautiful. Great self-esteem, I mean no slouching, no blinking even, and it takes something to carry off that hair. It's borderline clown-head. And I haven't seen so much bare cleavage since I got two balloons stuck in my backseat the day of Riley's birthday party. And she did go through my house without permission, pretty much invite herself to dinner and refuse to help. She's been condescending about my house, and is pissed, yes pissed off that I am even breathing. And she may have been messing around with Edward in my craft room, which is like desecration. And now I think she's blaming me for Edward's current dementia.

"This great man," she continues, the anger making her hot breath smack me in the face, "this great person…is," now there are tears. They're rimming over her lower lashes, "has gone from running a multi-million dollar business and philanthropical association, to launching the great feral cat rescue mission. How happy should I be? We used to burn up the city celebrating a million dollar deal. Now he holds up an apple peel and wants me to wet myself because it's all in one piece. He's bought a lawnmower. Now he wants to bake. He wants to have his own tomato plants. He likes to feed birds. He thinks you're an exotic high priestess. He's pretending he knows how to bar-be-que. I guess he's about to start eating meat again. Oh goodie, goodie, goodie."

I hear the voices gathering in the backyard, but time is suspended here in my kitchen, nose to nose with Vickie. I am gripped by her strong emotion, also known as hate.

Angela and Riley burst into the kitchen. Angela is carrying a large chocolate cake. Riley is holding hotdog buns the way he might hold a beloved teddy bear.

Vickie has quick recovery time. She is making over Riley, pretending to like children, I guess. Angela has picked up on the funky vibe, and looks from me to the woman bent over Riley like, What?

I roll my eyes, then remember I'm making a salad. I keep wondering, what is Edward doing here?

"I'm Angela," she says, sticking her hand out Vickie's way.

Vickie takes Angela's hand. "I'm Vickie. I'm Edward's date." She says this looking at me. Now Angela's looking at me, too.

"Congratulations. He's a cutie," Angela says, no confidence in the smile she's trying to bravely produce.

Riley hurries outside as soon as he can escape Vickie. Angela doesn't ask what needs to be done. She checks on what's in the oven, then takes over some of the chopping for the salad. Emmett comes in looking for who he can hug. Vickie is on the wrong side of the counter. He introduces himself and shakes her hand. He is trying not to drool. In some way Vickie might remind him of Rose. Physically she's in the same category. Attitude is similar as well. Emmett like them cold and built.

She is going on about how she'd picked him out of the yearbook. She's calling him Stud and he's kind of purring.

And the evening keeps spiraling down…down…down. Then Jacob arrives. Behind him is the ever-glaring Leah. She's carrying a plate of fried bread sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Jacob's eyes are riveted on boob girl who has just floated out the back door, Emmett McCarty drooling at her heels.

And Edward…he is locked in a deep discussion about the art of bar-be-que with Jasper. Jasper, the Texan, is deep in the process, instructing Edward, dousing the meat with beer from the long-neck bottle he holds, and then instructing Edward some more. Edward looks up then, as if he feels me looking at him. I can't figure him out. I don't want to. It's not going to be good. But the sun is setting, doing great things for him, not that he needs to be dripping in the golden glow of twilight, but still, when he winks at me and slowly turns back to Jasper, I know…I know he's really happy.


	7. Chapter 7

Catwoman 7

I saw her truck pull away at five in the morning. Good-bye, Bella Swan, Catwoman. I had to laugh and smile just thinking about her. She was such a captivating person. A mezmerizing woman. I wanted to see her, study her, like a man might look at a painting. She had no idea how she intrigued me.

I didn't like the sight of her pulling away. I had the urge to go out into the street, to run out there and wave my arms. I pictured her taillights blinking red as she would come to a stop, and I would hurry to her window and say, "Bella, don't go. I just found you. I had no idea you existed. I gave up looking. I know why I came here. I get it, now."

But I couldn't do that. I realized this. It didn't take away the wanting to, it only made it worse. I walked around outside, into the middle of the road, looking at her house, noticing everything. The sunflowers waved languidly in the morning breeze, they were heavy with dew. A white and black cat wove around the base of one of them and disappeared. A whirligig flashed red by the porch post, and her willow chair rocked slowly. I could see her there, long brown hair blowing around her shoulders. A genuine beauty that came from within and permeated the most beautiful womanly exterior. Was she made for me? It's like she was. She was. I wasn't good enough. I couldn't be.

Once back in the house I started to chew on a wooden skewer as I paced around thinking I ought to get a hair cut, I ought to go to the grocery store, maybe go for a run until it opened. My uncle Carlisle called a few minutes later. I felt weird, different, and I was really torn as to the way Bella's leaving was effecting me. I knew I was focused on her. I tended to do that more than people might realize. That ability is what made me perceptive in business. I heard everything at once, but I mean I really heard it. It all came flooding in, and I could ponder it into the stratosphere, all over the place, and blow it up when I was finished then think about each tiny part.

I loved the challenge of that. But people rarely held my attention. I was used to being with them and yet feeling so detached, like I could never get to something meaningful with them, like if they knew the real me they would run away screaming. They approached me all of the time. Men and women. I don't know what I put off that made them want my attention, but I had worked hard over the years, with Carlisle and Esme's patient help, to learn to be responsive. The men, it seems, wanted my ideas, wanted to see if there was a place they could make money off of me, and women, I could attract them, and I was good with that, but at a certain point it blew up. I was supposed to feel more, be more, give more, say more, know more about them, when I always went the other way, until it got ugly and I'd watch it fall apart.

"Carlisle," I say.

"What's the matter, Edward?"

"You called me."

"Of course. It's Saturday. It's six minutes after five. I'm late."

"You're late," I repeat, but I'm smiling.

"How's your week been?"

"Bella left. She went into the city. She was vague about how long. She said a few days."

"This is the neighbor we spoke about last week."

"Right. Bella. There's only one."

"Did you…"

"No, I didn't ask if she was coming back. I learned to bar-be-que. Jasper is teaching me. I ordered some books when I got home last night. But there's a lot of information on-line. I ordered an electric smoker. It should be here in five days…"

"Excuse me, Edward. Let's get back to Bella."

"She was vague, but I didn't ask her when. I didn't push it. I didn't understand if she wanted me to ask, or if she needed privacy. But there's something else."

"Wait a minute. You wanted to ask her though."

"Oh, yes."

"And she's already gone."

"Yes. I saw myself running after her, but I didn't. This girl…"

"Okay. That's pretty important," he says, patient like always, but his latching onto this fact is helping me face how intense my feelings have become for Bella in such a short amount of time.

"I just figured it out this morning, that I'm feeling a lot toward her. I'm confused about it. She closed the door on me the other night. But I've been doing what Esme told me, hanging in there and trying to explain myself, always trying to think of it from her point of view." I had spoken to Esme the previous Saturday when Carlisle, a doctor, had been called to the hospital interrupting our routine.

"Back up. What door did she close on you? Put it in a context, Edward." He laughed because I did this all the time, just took him somewhere foggy."

"I had been over at her house. She's like a ballerina, her wrists, even her fingers, but she's strong, you know? She kneads bread, Carlisle. She bakes in an outdoor oven. I've been researching them…"

"Stay with the door closing. Where were you?'

"I was on Bella's porch. We were having a nice time. I really like her. She's not like anyone else. Not like anyone I've ever met. I've been to the library twice where she works, but I resisted bothering her. But she didn't want to see me for a few days and I was trying to give her space. Can you imagine…me giving someone space? I've lived with this space, this moat…but with her…"

"Slow down. Was she the only reason you went to the library?"

"I had to meet with Peter at the college. I told you I would, and he's setting up a couple of lectures I'm giving to his business class in January. Bella works in the library. I went there to speak with her. Then I saw her at the front desk, but she was working with someone. So I didn't want to bother her. She…she's so beautiful."

"And what did you do?"

"I watched her for a few minutes. Her smile. She's like this delicate, drawing. I peeled an apple at her house, one long peel, but it was like her, curving," luscious, I thought to myself, "just a beautiful line." And I thought of that pink slip for the thousandth time, the pink toes, dragging my eyes up her creamy legs, and those lips, those eyes. I kept pulling on my hair to ground myself.

Right now she was driving away.

"Edward, you're all over the place. Obviously you like this girl, but she is your neighbor. Are you declaring yourself here? It's awfully quick. Let's think it through. Give me a trajectory. You know it's too quick."

"Well, I met her a week and a half ago. Emmett and Jasper, she grew up with them. She bakes, like I said, but…you just have to see it. Nothing with this girl is like you expect. You can't expect it when there's no point of reference. She makes me laugh. God. I went to her church."

"Have you talked with the pastor?"

"Yeah I'm getting to know him. We'll speak soon. He's great. Also friends with Bella. And Peter knows all about me."

"That's good. Make sure you don't wait to approach the pastor. It's important you establish your support there."

"I know that."

"I'm not demeaning you."

"I know that, Carlisle. I appreciate what you do, it's just hard not to feel like an infant sometimes. I really want a cigarette."

"That's a daily battle."

"What isn't? But coming to Forks has been good. But let me finish. Vickie came yesterday as I'm sure you know. Tanya was here on Tuesday. We got everything done. I'm sure she reported it all to you."

"Tanya said you seemed well. I'll talk to Vickie later today."

"I am well. I'm really well."

"You're agitated."

"So? That's life, right? I'm still happier than I ever remember being."

"As long as, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but this isn't some weird mania. It's genuine. That's why it feels so strange. But I've messed it up a little. Vickie…contain the wind, you know what I mean? Who can hope to control Vickie?"

"Nothing new there."

"I know that, but…Bella had us over, and things were…the night before I said I didn't have a girlfriend, then Bella gets home, and she's got all these bags, and Vickie is supposed to be leaving but she doesn't want to, she wants to meet Bella, and I run over to help Bella, and then I was screwed. She's right there, I tell Bella, hey can I bring a date? But I mean Vickie, not, you know, a date, like a woman…you know. But that's what Vickie is. How many years does she cover? And now I can't…. She's got her little dress thing on, you know Vickie, there's no way to explain her, so I don't. I don't do that. I accept Vickie, but now…it doesn't work in this smaller place. I mean here Vickie is…there's no blending in, but Emmett, he's the greatest guy, more out there than me, than anything I do, and it helps with Vickie, too, he's so out there, but you can trust him, they all trust him, so it helped, but still, I went over there before I should have, and then Vickie and the date thing, and she fought it, Vickie did, got all attitude, and we had a row about it at Bella's, in a back room, and she slapped me and grabbed my hair, and I tried to set her straight, I asked her to leave, but no way she would. So she messed with Emmett. It's just wrong between us, and who can explain it? But I can't just throw her away like everyone else has, you know? I'm her…I'm her family. But Bella. I took this woman over there, is what I'm saying. I called her my date, and she misbehaved because she's Vickie and she's wired like, jerry-rigged in her brain. So Bella, by the time I left and took Vickie, I'm gonna blow this with her. I may have already done it, and that doesn't even include the cats."

There's a really long pause. "Edward…Esme says to stop pulling your hair."

I kind of laugh, but not really.

"Let me ask you this because I have to. Have you thought about killing yourself?"

I sigh, and at the end of it, all I can do is continue to breathe. That's helpful somehow, and so stupid. "No," I answer.

"Have you thought about putting a gun to your head?"

"No. I mean, last night after I got home, and I told Vickie to go home, and she asked if I was mad, and I said no, but don't even think about getting involved with Emmett. And believe me, I will warn him about her if she doesn't pull back, and I had that flashing thought that if I had a gun, I could do it…in just seconds, you know? But it was just a flash. There's no power to it. I know that's not what God wants. And Carlisle, I don't want it either. I'm so glad to be alive. I want life. I'm in. I'm in."

"I believe you, Edward, but I have to ask, have you thought about harming yourself in anyway?"

"No."

"Have you thought of taking pills?"

"No. Nothing. I'm alive. I don't belong to myself. I'm part of a bigger plan. My life isn't mine to take. I'm here to serve God by taking care of others. I know this. Carlisle, I really know it."

"Okay. But Edward, you've only known Bella for under two weeks. Don't project all of your reason for living onto her."

"I'm not doing that, Carlisle. You make me sound like such a life-sucker."

"You're still finding your way. You're not a life sucker. You're a life giver. A life-affirmer. A life-protector, starting with your own. But be careful of thinking that Bella has all of your answers."

Is that what I was doing? "Wow. Carlisle…"

"Are you up to facing this?"

"Yes. What do you think I'm doing now?'

"Keep facing it. If you're going to build a relationship with Bella, start with being a good neighbor. Move to friendship if she's open. If there's more, make sure it's reciprocal. You know how to be a good friend. Be that first."

I told him about the cats, all of the discussions, the conflict.

"You told her she is the most important thing. That's crucial. Endure what you must before you make any decisions. Notice her body language." Did I ever notice her body language. Did I ever.

"So Edward, I have to ask, on a scale of one to five, where are you emotionally? Five is red. One is green."

"I'm a two." I wanted Bella. I wanted to see her in her giddup, moving around her yard. I wanted to talk with her, eat with her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to know her.

"I'm a two," I repeated. Then I told him my plans for the week. I told him everyone I'd make sure to come in contact with, Jasper, Emmett, Paul."

"Reach out, but you're ultimately your own safe place, your own keeper."

"Yeah. Yeah," I said. But my mind kept going to Bella, the outline of her in that crazy hat, her laugh, her anger, her sad beautiful eyes. I wanted Bella.


	8. Chapter 8

Catwoman 8

Alice, Rose and I sat on a big red smooshy sofa at the Rabbit Hole, the shop Alice had opened shortly after her break-up with Jasper. We each wore a funky hat, and sipped cappuccino from an assortment of striped and polka-dotted ceramic cups. This place was all Alice. It was an everyday shop that offered teas and coffees and bakery items, but she catered all kinds of gatherings here as well. This Sunday afternoon it was a birthday party for nine year old girls. Nothing matched, colors were bright, murals painted by Alice, of course, filled the walls. Alice was dressed like the Mad-hattter, Rose was the Wonderland Alice. I had opted for the Queen of Hearts, but I looked more like a librarian doing a bad impression of Edward's friend Vickie.

Children occasionally ran past, and the cacophony around us made it difficult to hear. Not that I was saying much. This was the second day of my visit and it had been great so far, just…great. But I felt some kind of emotional tea party brewing inside, and it was making me increasingly edgy.

Upon arriving here and embracing Alice, we moved past the awkward build up in my mind. The same with Rose. Familiarity wrapped itself around me, but I was ping-ponging between the person they'd known, and the woman I was now. To be near them was two-edged-comfort, and also, sharp grief. I remembered the security of what we'd shared growing up—and what we'd lost—basically all of the males in our circle.

Losing our dads was made bearable by the fact that we hadn't orchestrated the loss. Losing Emmett and Jasper was another story. It was hard not to boil down the two devastating break-ups for more than Alice and Rose wanting to 'move on' in their careers. Mostly I blamed Alice. I believed she had influenced Rose because she'd grown so lonely after ditching Jasper that she wanted Rose to herself. Rose was always the strong one. If she could get Rose to herself, she could stay strong in her determination to escape Jasper's devotion.

I realized sitting there in my gaudy red wig, holding my big ridiculous cup, I was really, really angry at them. They'd left me behind. They'd left me adrift. I had more in common with Emmett and Jasper. I found myself wanting to champion their pain.

So yes, the past kept overshadowing the warmth of being with them.

Like now. Like when Rose just finished saying, "Moving here was the best thing I ever did."

I felt such a spike of anger I choked on my coffee. Rose handed me a napkin. Alice didn't seem to notice, but then she was trying to run a business. And we all knew what came first.

I couldn't speak about my current difficulties without bringing them to the subject of what they'd left behind. Whom they'd left behind. So I didn't really feel like I could share my life with them. They had disdain. Their answer for handling Forks and all of its baggage, was the context in which they'd evaluate my problems. Just move, seemed to be their one-size-fits-all solution. I was so pissed.

So after the party and the clean up, and when we were back in Alice's apartment, waiting for Rose to get off the phone so we could eat the left-over tea sandwiches from Alice's shop, it just blurted out of me. "I think I'm going to go home."

"What?" Alice crowed from the galley part of her L-shaped kitchen.

I heard the click of Rose's phone, then the click of her heels. She kicked off her shoes and started into a litany about the asshole she'd just spoken to, and how he didn't have the sense not to bother her on a Sunday with something she could handle on a Monday.

Alice stepped near the table carrying a tray of drinks. "I thought you were staying for a week!" Alice was wearing a Japanese style robe. "We've got so much planned," she said, but it was hollow. It occurred to me that she was open to the idea of my leaving. We were strangers.

She and Rose shot looks at one another. They both took seats at the table, like guilty teenagers ready for a scolding.

I could feel the hot tears. I was a silent crier, but I couldn't breathe right away. Alice pulled a napkin from the tray and shoved it into my fist. She was always taking care of me, or trying to restrain me.

"Let it out," Rose said, resigned.

"What's the point?" I said when I could speak.

"Go on," Rose insisted, steeling herself, I knew.

Alice reached for me then, her red nails entrapping my hand.

"I've been hanging with Emmett and Jasper. I'm…pissed over how you've treated them."

"Don't make this about them," Rose warned. I could tell she wanted to bolt from the chair, from the room.

"It is about them," I said. "Because I don't have anyway of talking about my life unless in includes them."

"Since when?" Rose sneered, slapping the table and making our drinks slosh. It's not like we don't talk all of the time, Bella. You never mentioned them being your besties."

"Bella, I thought we had all been honest, and talked this out…all along. We determined at the beginning that what happened between Jasper and I and then Rose and Emmett wouldn't tear us apart."

"Well it did tear us apart. As an individual whose entire world centered in between your friggin' relationships, I am ripped to shreds." I yelled.

"Don't do this," Rose said, her finger pointed my way. "We have talked about this, Bella. No one ever told you what you had to do. You chose to step back from them."

"I couldn't be the go-between. And after a while Jasper was too hurt to be around me. It felt so wrong, you'd go away and there I was. It really became unbearable. And I got so busy with Charlie. Then your dad, Alice. And Rose you know how it was with Jasper. Double that with Emmett. He's so hurt."

"No," Rose put her head on her folded arms, then sat up straight, her face flushed red. "Don't do this to me, Bella."

Over Rose, Alice spoke, "I know what you did for my dad, Bella. I wanted to be there more. What can I say?"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm saying no one was really there for anyone else. And it's been really hard. And I've been hanging with Em and Jasper again. And I need it. And…it's been good. And I don't feel like I can really tell you." I felt the first lifting of a weight, but I didn't know what it meant. They were both staring at me.

"Why didn't you say something?" Rose asked first. "You've talked about Edward, but you haven't mentioned the boys." We'd call them the boys until the day we died.

"You quit asking if I saw them." Me.

"You quit seeing them." Rose.

"In Forks you don't quit seeing anyone, Rose, or have you forgotten everything about us?" Me.

"What's that mean?" Rose.

"You guys want to move on. I get that. Now what? I guess…without Dad, and then without my friends…" I stared off at Alice's bright chartreuse kitchen wall. Great. This wasn't about them at all. It was about me.

And it was about Edward. Or what he was making me feel—some great glacier movement in the depths of my heart.

"I'm not judging you guys. I'm not your judge. This isn't about whether or not you should have broken up, or what I think about it. I tried not to make it about myself. But sometimes I wonder if you and Jasper broke up because I wasn't paying attention. You were both so determined to make it work. And then Dad was sick, and you had that fight. And you broke up, and Jasper went into…he's never come out of it. I never wanted to say that to you, I know that technically it's his responsibility to pull himself out, but something died in him, Alice."

"You think I don't know that? People break up all the time, Bella. People grow and change. I love him. I will always love him. But he couldn't meet me. He wouldn't keep growing with me." 

"What does that even mean? What was he refusing to do? Oh, never mind. It's not my business. I'm just trying to figure things out. How do I go forward?"

"I think of him everyday," she whispers. I haven't forgotten him. But if someone wasn't there for you, Bella, out of the two of us, Jasper was the one who left. Emotionally. It was Em who reached out."

"I'm not comparing them. It was Em, but only because he needed me, too. I had my father dying, and Em coming apart at the seams because he was losing you, Rose. He knew it before you did. Remember how it was?"

"I heard he dated Jane a few times," Alice said, bringing it back to Jasper.

"It didn't last," I said with heat.

"I'd think she'd be elated to get a guy like Jazz," Alice tried to defend.

"Not this version of Jasper." I stared at her until she looked away.

"We baked." Me.

"No way," Rose said.

"Who's we?" Alice asked.

"Me, Jasper, Emmett…Edward. I actually baked, but they smelled it and they came."

"If you bake it they will come," Rose said, but it fell flat.

"And?" Alice.

"And then I had them over. Last Friday night. A big group. Jacob, Leah, Ben, Angela."

"Was it like…a funeral?" Alice.

"No. It was…a beginning maybe. I don't know. It was awkward. Edward brought a friend…a date. It was weird. She spent most of the night chasing Emmett. And he wasn't running. He was kind of…interested."

"Good for him," Rose sprung up out of her chair, sending it flying into the wall. "I wish he'd find someone, I really do. But don't think it's easy for me to hear. I mean…he was it for me. For years. We were going to get married."

"Yeah, we were there for many of those discussions," I said. "Sit down."

She didn't like to be ordered around, but slowly she regained her seat. "For the last year I only stayed with him because I couldn't bear the thought that someday he'd move on. But that's not enough reason to stay with someone. I was moving on. I had moved on. I needed to be honest with him. Isn't that love?"

She was flipping her hair around, over her shoulder to the front, then over her shoulder to the back. She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. I grew up watching boys and men literally get bludgeoned by her proximity. I once saw a boy fall off of his bike, and a man walk into a door. I had been invisible in her presence, but never to her. And never to Alice. Emmett. Or Jasper. To them I had mattered.

"I'm kind of jumbled up about things. Edward is a handsome guy. He's weird. There's something there kind of…anyway, he's got me thinking, about my future maybe. I don't know."

"So are you and him…?" Alice.

"Not really. No. I mean he's my neighbor. That would be ridiculous."

"Do you feel that way about him?" Alice.

"Not completely, no. I see him, though. Or I'm starting to. But I don't trust him. I don't even like everything about him. And this woman Vickie…. It's complicated."

The week long visit included two dates with Alice's friend Garrett. Garrett was friend to Alice's new friend Mark. Mark was the divorced father of two little boys who had attended a birthday party at The Rabbit Hole. Mark was an attorney, a self-proclaimed former workaholic, which he claimed was the reason he lost his first marriage. Garrett had never married, and was still a workaholic, according to Mark, but was willing to learn from Mark's mistakes. Accepting a blind date with Alice's special friend (me) was Garret's first foray into reform.

Alice had worked me over before the date. And that was kind of insulting as I knew what she and Rose thought about my pathetic standing on the sex-o-meter of hotness. After they smashed me into skinny jeans, and poured a blue knit top over me, they stuffed my feet into heels, then sandals, then heels, then sandals, arguing between themselves as if I wasn't in the room. "I can hear you," I said, but they didn't even acknowledge me at all as Alice pulled up my hair in a loose knot. Rose allowed me to wear my black rimmed glasses as she liked the repressed librarian image, but not my translation of it, only theirs.

So by the time we met the guys at a downtown bar, I was looking devastatingly casual, according to my friends, not having worked this hard since I was in Angela's wedding.

Mark was handsome and successful and confident enough that I felt Jasper's wound as if he was meeting the guy through my eyes. Garrett was also quite the homerun. If Edward was my new endpoint when judging all other men for sheer beauty, Garrett was a seven with the potential to grow as I got to know him, of course.

We hit it off. Garrett was a reader. He had the lanky blonde looks that got to me. He laughed at himself. He hung on most of what I said, even making me repeat a dropped word, as if I spouted off winning lottery numbers.

He leaned close, but he kept his hands to himself. He made eye contact. He was amiable and agreeable. I laughed. I danced. I clinked bottles, I shared pretzels.

And by the time Alice and I got back to her apartment, I felt sober and quiet and introspective. Alice told me there was a whole big world out there, as if I didn't know. Then she asked, what did I think of Mark? I told her, he seems like a nice guy. But all I could really think is, what would his ex-wife say about him, and where were his sons?

She went on, a little too loudly, and did a dance, and laughed, and kicked off her shoes. But I didn't buy it, and we weren't really looking at one another anymore, so I told her goodnight and she pretended to be absorbed in a newspaper.

I could only nod before I closed myself in my room and felt…relief. I wanted to go home. And that seemed so ungrateful. What more did I want? I wanted my house. My cats. My garden. My chair. I wanted my kitchen and my books, and my ceilings, and my town. I wanted Em, and Jasper, and Ben and Angela. I wanted my life. I wanted…I wanted. And there he was, in my mind. And there he was.

It didn't make any sense. He was not the reason I wanted to go home. He was strange. He had a date, even though he'd told me no girlfriend, he'd brought a date. And they'd been in the backroom. But after that, I could see he was upset with how she'd acted. He was embarrassed. So what was their connection? What was it about?

And why had I kept comparing Garrett to a man I really didn't know, had scarcely any connection with? Was Edward Cullen my excuse now, my shield from trying with someone who was real? Someone I might be able to trust?

So I stayed through the second date, a concert in the park. Mark and Garret set up chairs and brought a cooler. Alice and I brought a basket she'd filled with lovely goodies from her shop. It was Yuppie perfection, a beautiful evening, he'd sat close, his elbow touching mine. He smelled good, and he'd spoken just to me. We laughed at the antics of children playing around the blankets and chairs. He tucked a wisp of her hair behind my ear and his fingers lingered on my cheek like he was the luckiest man in the world just to touch me in such a familiar way.

I wanted to thank him for reminding me how sweet love could be, how kindly it could present itself. Garrett reminded me of that. He brought me to a good emotional place and I observed the good lesson.

And then I went home with Alice, and in a very relaxed, peaceful state, put my things in my bag and thanked Alice, sincerely thanked her for a wonderful time. I reassured her that I wasn't leaving early because I was upset, or ungrateful, but I was ready to go back, it was time to go back, and figure out some things.

As I drove onto the freeway and wove my way through the various exit points I knew something, finally knew this—Forks was home, had always been home, would always be home. That was settled.

And whatever future I would have began there. I had thrived there. I had shattered there. And it was time to resurrect. In Forks.


	9. Chapter 9

Catwoman 9

I had been home just long enough to change my clothes. Cottonball hadn't been around to greet me. Boots or Cuddles might be off on a hunt, but Cottonball was an insider, and she was always ready to let me have it, whining a hello, and insisting on attention whenever I came into the house.

Could she have gotten outside when Jasper came by to check on her?

I perused the view from my living room windows. Nothing was stirring at Edward's house. He'd ripped out Mr. Brandon's long neglected landscaping, and the fresh grade of his lawn showed spray painted lines and circles for where he planned to put in nursery stock. Some of that stock waited in pots on his driveway marked with various colors of plastic ties to show its corresponding place in the proposed gardens.

"Anal," I whispered, pulled up short by the sight of Cottonball picking her rickety way across the crumbled earth in Cullen's front yard.

I shoved my feet into my flip flops. We didn't have much traffic around here, but I couldn't bear to stand still and watch my Cottonball totter across the road. She was rolling on Cullen's scorched earth when I made my way across the road to rescue her. I was already rebuking her for being outside in the first place. It had to be Jasper. Why would he be so irresponsible as to let her outside?

She was laying on her side, telling me off loudly as I scooped her up. "You crazy old thing," I said, kissing her forehead. "Hard telling how many fertilizers and pesticides Cullen sprayed on this dirt." I was brushing through her sleek fur with my hand while waiting on the side of the road for an approaching car to pass. It slowed in front of me, Cullen's eyes looking a little worried as he glanced at me.

He pulled a left into his driveway. "Bella," he was saying as soon as his door opened.

I was glad to see him, and his jeans and his T-shirt, and his rebel without a cause hair, but I was almost equally angry. I didn't know why he frequently made me angry, but he did. Except I might have known a bit, because I was also thinking about Vickie.

He quickly scanned me, up and down. "You were gone," he said, drawing closer, his hand outstretched to scratch Cottonball on the top of her head. She stretched her neck and closed her eyes as he continued to scratch, his long fingers working so close to my chest, I had to look away. He drew back then, shoving his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders a bit and smiling at me. But the worry in his eyes kept me all tied up.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Look, Bella…I went to see my uncle and aunt for a couple of days. Anyway," he scrubbed at the back of his neck now, then ran that same big hand through his hair, "I talked to one of our lawyers, and I guess he made a few calls. I'm willing to pay for the clean up with these cats…."

"Really Edward? I just walked over here to get Cottonball. I just got home."

"I'm sorry about that, but I need you to listen a minute." He moved his hand toward me, and it startled Cottonball who leapt from my arms, scratching the back of my hand in the process.

"Damn," I whispered, but then his hands were reaching toward me. I pushed him away, walking swiftly after my cat who was now posed in the middle of the street, looking at me over her shoulder.

I scooped her up, carrying her toward my house. I could feel the anger in my hips as I took wide stumbling steps. I could feel it in the hair bouncing around my shoulders. I could fee it in the sharp sting on the back of my hand.

He was behind me, calling me a couple of times, "Bella, please wait."

I went in the house. He knocked, then came in after me. "Bella…I'll go if you want me to, but…"

I walked to my counter and set Cottonball on the floor. She sauntered to her dish and started to crunch her food. "Just come on in."

He was close to me. "Sorry." He lifted my hand and looked at the scratch.

"It's not my first one," I said, gently tugging my hand away. But he took it again. His hands were warm, and not soft. He looked at me for a moment, then studied my scratch.

"My hands are a third again as big," he said, smiling as he spread my fingers against his own.

I pulled away, making fists against the counter. I was staring at the scarred wood there.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

I huffed a little. I shouldn't answer. It was none of his business. "I went to visit with Rose and Alice."

"That's what Jasper said…." Voice so rich.

"Then why did you ask?" Me, incredulous.

His mouth opened, and he shrugged. "I just…I don't know. I guess I wanted to make sure you didn't leave because of me."

"Why would I do that? You don't make sense." I'm lying.

"Of course it's not just me. But I need to apologize for coming to your party early, and bringing a date…well Vickie. I shouldn't have…it wasn't a great idea."

I didn't know where to look. How could he flume me to this topic? I was so uncomfortable. "It's…okay. It's fine."

"Really? I know Vickie's kind of out there. And the deal with Emmett…" 

"It's not my concern." Eye contact. I had spoken so firmly I amazed myself. Now I was shouting at myself not to lie. "But…you said she was your date…then here at the house you were in my back room with her…"

His brows pulled together. "No, no. Bella, that was a family affair, right? We were arguing, well…it's what you do if you know Vickie. But I thought we kept it quiet. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrespect you or your home in any way."

"Okay. You didn't. I just…it was weird." I was shaking my head. I was getting word-locked.

"No. I'm sorry about all of that. I'm glad you brought this up now. I'm sorry about coming early, bringing her along. I'm just…I'm an ass. I really am. Bella, sometimes…this is why I'm alone. This is why."

That was more than I was expecting.

He unfolded my hands and gently took the injured one again, leading me to the sink. I didn't need him to do this, but I understood that by letting him…I was forgiving him.

He turned on the water, flicking his fingers beneath the stream as he adjusted the temperature. So close. Eyes searching my face, noticing my body. Licking lips, tongue. Chin and jaw, strong and so vulnerable, so unsure. Confident as he wet a paper towel and picked up my hand again and dabbed around the cut. "Good thing you're such a tough girl," he said, smiling a little.

"Good thing," I repeated. Did he know how much trouble I had letting people do things for me? Could he feel my discomfort right now?

I could only blame myself for how I was going to shift this, but I had to get the focus on something other than him. Than me, or I was going to bolt. "You started to say something…about the cats." This had burst out of me, and I took a deep breath.

He looked away, shut off the water, let go of my hand.

"Yeah," he took my dried out dishrag in his hands. I knew it probably smelled. He sniffed it then, and squirted soap on it, turning the water back on and working the rag under the flow. "Yeah."

"Okay, you don't have to clean that rag," I said, just too embarrassed to breathe.

"Sorry. I…the cat thing got off to a messy start." He spread the rag over the separation between the double bowls. "A real clean out can be hundreds of thousands of dollars. And it can take a while." He squirted dish soap on his beautiful hands and rolled them together. Then he rinsed them and I found myself coming back from a brief hypnosis.

"That's what I was pushing for," he said, "a long-term orderly capture." He leaned against the sink, next to me, arms folded. "But when my lawyer called Black, apparently he got ticked off about it because he thought I went over his head, so him and his boys…"

"What are you saying?" I demanded, really hearing him now.

"I'm saying, the clean out got kicked off with a hunt."

I pounded the counter.

"I'm telling you that Black and his deputies went into the woods and shot some of the cats."

"You better be lying."

"Listen to me, Bella…."

"Where're my cats? I haven't seen them yet."

"They're probably hiding…"

"No. They better not…this is your fault. I blame you!"

And Cottonball had been outside.

He kept talking. He tried to touch me, but I pushed his hands off of me. I yelled at him. "Get out. I have to go looking. Get out."

He wouldn't stop talking. I went into my bedroom to put on jeans and boots. That stopped him, but I knew he hadn't left. When I emerged, ready to walk in the woods, he was waiting, pulling on his hair, trying to explain.

"Go home!" I yelled, making my way to the backdoor.

"I'm going with you."

"No!"

"Two can look better than one."

"They won't come to me if you're there. They hate you…with good reason." I wore one of Dad's shirts unbuttoned over my undershirt. I trudged around my yard, looking in places like my garden shed. No Boots, no Cuddles.

He followed in silence. I called "Kitty, kitty," not caring if he was mocking me in his mind. I knew two emotions, worry for Boots and Cuddles, and other old friends, and red-zone anger at Cullen.

We walked on and off for most of the afternoon. We did see cats from other families. Worse, we found the bodies of several animals where a family had been eliminated. I spotted them first, and Edward tried to usher me away. "Wait," I said, "I want to see who they are." But he told me he'd see if they were mine. I allowed him this repentance. I knew this wasn't his fault, even though I wanted to blame him for some of it.

Edward said the animals weren't mine. He made note of their location so we could inform Black. I had a growing list of things to inform Jacob Black of.

After the first hour I stopped keeping ahead of Edward. This was aided by a particularly nasty fall where I tripped over some roots. He made a big deal out of some blood coming from my knee. I didn't particularly relish blood as a rule, but I'd long since stopped freaking out over it. I'd had a long list of injuries in my lifetime.

As the hours passed, we did not find my pets. It started to rain, and we ended up sitting under the shelf of a bank along the river. I was relatively dry, but Edward was less protected. The rain soon drenched his hair. He slicked it back, a new dazzling profile line. He told me the rain felt good. It dripped slowly from his chin. I told him to scoot closer, not realizing how overwhelming it would feel to be sitting with our sides against one another's. I drew my knees toward my chest. He sat with loosely bent knees resting his forearms on them.

I'd been leaning against the dirt bank, but after a while, he told me to lean forward. "I'm not putting the moves on you, but this will help and I can stretch out my arm."

"Very smooth, Cullen," I muttered, leaning forward and allowing him to wrap me in his well-formed limb. Neither of us were exactly prepared to cuddle, but he smelled good just the same, sweaty and manly, with the last hint of some good soap wafting from his skin. My god, I had not been held like this, by a man like him, not ever. He had no idea how my insides imploded with longing. I tried to remind myself about my cats, but what I was feeling from the comfort of his arm across my back was almost as overwhelming as my fear for my pets. I had to regulate my breathing. I wanted to cry. I wanted to lean forward and run away. I wanted, most of all, to turn into Edward's side and slide my hand across his beautifully sculpted chest, and press my cheek over his heart.

We were silent for several minutes. The rain held just short of a downpour. It was as soul soothing as a cricket symphony.

"Bella," Edward said eventually, his voice as rich as the pelting sounds, "I find your company to be the most unexpected gift."

I swallowed with difficulty. "Th…thanks." Really? It was the best I could do.

Neither of us moved. If I were to look at him now…I didn't know.

He laughed a little. "You're welcome."

"I mean," do not, do not ramble, "…we're neighbors."

He laughed a bit again. "Yeah. We are."

I shook my head, keeping my eyes down.

"What brought you here? Why here?"

"You mean was it God or Satan?" he laughed.

I had to laugh, too. It went without saying that I'd been struggling.

"My Aunt Esme lived here as a child. Just a couple of years, but it had made an impression. We drove through once. It was beautiful. Then I got to a place…a troubled place. And when I thought of starting over…it was in my mind."

I had slowly turned my head his way. I had moved closer to his shoulder, and as he spoke he pulled me in a bit. It felt right and kind to be like this. I was adjusting to it, adjusting to him, his warm nearness, the shock of it, the comfort of it. "Sorry for your trouble," I whispered.

He squeezed me in response. And there it was, the thud of his heart beneath my cheek.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Edward and I walked through the woods not saying much now. I led, he followed. When I slipped in the mud, he touched me, lightly, his hand pulling away slowly, fingers writing on my skin. The water was silver as it dripped on us from the trees overhead, as it slid on our skin and soaked us through so our clothes stuck and outlined our very flesh. I moved in a new awareness, how he might view me, curved, small, and his tall, straight nearness.

I slid the ever-present hair band from my wrist, and while still walking, gathered my heavy wet hair high on my head and twisted it there in a dark shiny mess. I knew he watched me, considered everything about me. I felt his heat on the back of my neck, and all over. For the first time in my life I felt awakened from a long coma existence.

There was also the sadness, my father, my friends, the cats, Jacob Black's audacious behavior. I was seeking my own permission to feel something else, so all of the inner chains were rattling.

But those dark patches weren't the greatest things. The greatest thing was this energy I felt from the weight of Edward's silent gaze, from the sound of his footsteps matching my own, from the occasional low, husky comment, yes the shock of the deep timbre of his voice. And the discovery of his presence. In my world.

Too soon the woods thinned and we reached my yard. When we rounded the oven, there was Cuddles stretched out in all her orange glory, licking her paw. I ran to her and lifted her in my arms, twirling in a circle, just so relieved.

"I'll be damned," Edward said, his hands on his hips. "Maybe the other one will follow soon."

"I hope so," I said, nuzzling my cat, but looking at Edward. "Thank you."

He shook his head, but his eyes. We weren't casual now.

"When will you be speaking to Black?"

"Oh, fifteen minutes or so."

He laughed. "Not one to procrastinate."

I wouldn't go that far, but this couldn't wait.

"Anger is a great motivator."

"Can I go along? I've already spoken to him once today, but it wasn't really a constructive exchange."

"You're welcomed to come, but I can handle Jacob," I said. I didn't go into the history, the brief tragic mistake in thinking we could be more. I was ashamed at how clueless I'd been, working so hard to believe that we were meant to be more than friends. Now we weren't even that. Especially now.

We agreed to change clothes and meet in five minutes at my truck. Edward wanted to drive, but he was honing in on my conversation with Jacob, so I was driving. I suspected he wanted to somehow protect me from Jacob, but that notion was misplaced. I was serious when I told him I could handle Jacob.

How long had I put up with Jacob's sore-headedness. Ever since Dad had passed. Once he got the chief position and didn't have Dad to answer to, his self-importance had outgrown his character.

As predicted, I stood at the front desk at Forks Police Station fifteen minutes later. Edward stood beside me. I knew this would anger Jacob. He'd shown his suspicion of Edward's potential in my life the last time we'd spoken here about the cats, and again at my house during the bar-be-que. That night Jacob had been limited by Leah's presence to pull his usual harassment, but he'd watched me without apology anytime I'd moved around Edward. Or just moved in general. I didn't know why Leah put up with him. She was much younger. But they'd had the longest engagement. There still wasn't a wedding date. I only hoped it would give her more time to think.

Jacob took his time coming to the desk. He was on the phone, so he swiveled his chair so his back was to us. In Forks, the chief's desk was in the open. Dad always liked that. You couldn't stick him in some office away from things. He liked seeing who was coming in the door, if he was there at all. He always thought his job was to be out in the community.

When Jacob finally got off the phone, he took his time sauntering to the front desk. I was glad Angela wasn't around, it would make it easier to speak my mind.

I pretended to be patient, arms folded, waiting. Edward stood with his hands in his pockets.

"I know what this is about," Jacob said, his already dark-skinned face flushing even darker. He'd brought a stack of papers with him holding them like a shield in front of his chest.

"I can't find one of my cats," I said.

"Your cats are fine. We went along the rocks where they breed and the old ladies feed them." He said tiredly.

"This isn't what we spoke about," Edward began.

"You said that yesterday,' Jacob answered intensely, glaring at Edward. "And your lawyer said that. I have the jurisdiction on how to proceed. This county does not have the money, manpower, or time to dote on these cats. I thought I made myself clear. Now you've got her all worked up…."

I reached across the desk and poked his chest, right through the papers. "Don't you put this on him."

"We were fine until he got here. You're the one who came storming in here about him. You're the one who wanted me to stop him." Jacob.

Edward looked at me curiously. I had no time to explain. Some of the fire left me. We needed a solution, not a tantrum from me. I suddenly realized how personal this was for all of us. The cats were lost somewhere in our mutual needs to control what felt like a train-wreck of good intentions.

"Jacob, I want to believe that you did what you did to carry out good, solid police work." 'Good, solid police work,' was Charlie's saying. Jacob recognized it immediately, heard it in Charlie's voice the way I did. He straightened a bit. We were so used to manipulating one another.

"I don't know if it was good, I don't know if it was solid, but it was damn hard work, it tied up four men for nine hours, it addressed the worst of the problem, it's a short-term solution that's going to take the ongoing co-operation of the residents, starting with yourself. Get the word out. Stop feeding them. When they're on your property, take independent action. It's going to cause problems. If you use poison, know innocent animals will be hurt. If you shoot, don't do it inside town limits or you will be ticketed. If one is on your property and it looks sick you can call us and we'll come as soon as we can, but I tell you right now, a sick cat will not be priority if we're short on manpower as we usually are. My advice? Trap them on your own property, and take them to the shelter in Port Angeles. What I think will happen? Nothing. We don't change here, we adapt." Now he spoke directly to Edward, "You want to come in here flashing your money around, fine. We've got thirty families on our Christmas food-basket list that probably won't be able to have much for Christmas. Our fire-truck was purchased in 1965. I have three boys from the reservation wanting to intern with me, and I can't afford to pay them anything for their trouble. I have two full-time deputies and twenty-four hours of protection to provide for a town of five thousand people spread across thirty miles. I've got at least five known pedophiles, and five times that who get liquored up every Friday night and smack the wife around. We need education programs, we need…."

"Cut it out," I said.

Jacob looked at me, barely able to stop himself. It was all right there in his face. His eyes were so easy to read. For me. He was always good with words, he could always make a speech. I'd heard this one.

"You're right," I said, "we adapt. Except for you. You don't adapt, you get even."

"You're not listening…" Jacob.

"I'm listening, alright. I just liked it better when my dad said it. You went into the woods to show us who's boss. Okay, you've got the shiny badge."

He smacked the papers onto the desk. The ruddy color painted his face. His white teeth were clenched, "He's come in here offering hundreds of thousands of dollars to clean up a cat problem, one only he has a problem with."

"Yeah, hardy har. You're having a good time with it around the water cooler," I said.

"So were you last time we talked. What changed?" Jacob.

I could feel Edward's tension. But I was back in touch with my anger now, and realized I'd reached out and put my hand on Edward's arm, like I was telling him to wait.

"Nothing has changed, Jacob. Nothing." We looked at one another for a beat.

"Am I supposed to be getting some kind of message here?" he asked, tired again.

"I hope so."

Edward interrupted, "Look, Chief, I would like to work with you to set traps. Maybe the interns would be the perfect answer to this."

"That's for me to decide," he said, but calling him Chief had seemed to work a miracle. He was actually looking directly at Edward now.

"Of course it is. Just give me an opportunity to work with you. I'm not wanting to do this independently of the police, or the citizens, actually."

"I've heard your spiel, Cullen. What you don't get is, you don't come into an impoverished area flashing hundreds of thousands of dollars to catch cats. It makes you ridiculous."

"And by association it makes you ridiculous?" Edward asked.

"I'm not going to be a part of it. Not your way. My campaign is just what I said. Yes, there's a problem. We can go in every now and then and clean out some of it, but it's the citizens who have to maintain it. They have to care. And frankly, they've got other things on their minds."

"That makes sense," Edward said. "I don't have to be the champion. I'm glad to hear you recognize the problem. I only ask that you not go about it the way you already have. I want to do this as humanely as possible."

"You can be as bleeding heart as you want to be. I'll just play up the parasite angle. No one wants to get hookworms from cat feces left in their kid's sandbox."

"Exactly," Edward said. "But demonizing the animals isn't the best way to go. Then people will lose their pets. You can see how distressed Bella is from that same possibility. This needs to be handled carefully."

"Don't tell me how to do my job."

"This isn't personal, Jake. Don't make it personal," I warned.

"Are you finished? I've spent enough time on this crap."

"It will take the co-operation of the police department to respond to calls." Edward. 

"Not if we make each person responsible for what comes in their own yard," Jake held.

"Some of the cats may be injured. They'll trap other things like skunks and coons, opossums." Edward.

"Most can handle that. But it is problematic. Someone could get bitten. If we hand out the traps, it's ours. They have to volunteer. They have to want to do this."

"If we trap in the woods, we can check the traps and handle the catch," Edward again.

"Do you know how many animals we'll have to handle? How relentlessly we'll have to stay on it? I'm telling you I don't have the manpower."

"Then we can hire interns and I'll pay," Edward.

They got re-embroiled in a discussion on the basics which led to thirty minutes of talking in circles. One thing they agreed on, the problem couldn't be solved quickly.

Edward went outside, and I hung back to talk to Jacob. "I think you jumped the gun on this one."

"I broke up with Leah." We stared at one another.

"Why?"

"She threatened to break up with me. I got tired of it."

"I hope you know what you're doing. You put in a lot of years."

"Glad it's over," he snapped.

"Is she alright?"

"Don't know. We broke up. You could call her and ask."

"Don't be a jerk. What am I supposed to say?"

"You always have plenty to say. Looks like you and Cullen are getting cozy. Wearing the same lapel pins and all, getting ready to change the world one feline at a time. You don't even know this guy. Last time I was defending him. Now you've jumped the fence. Now he can do no wrong, and I'm the bad guy."

"You did what I mistakenly thought he would do. You went off half-cocked, not him. He's won me over. He makes sense. You, on the other hand, did the Call of Duty thing. You darn right I'm on his side."

"This isn't about the animals, Bella. This is about you finally finding someone who can lure you out of your castle. He's a fantasy, money, Mr. Movie Star. You don't know him, Bella. He's not what he seems. He's not stable."

I felt sick. Jacob had something—a secret weapon. His excitement was palpable.

Part of me wanted to grab his smug face and yell, "What is it? What do you know?" and part of me wanted to pull his gun and warn him not to say another word.

Jacob couldn't have hit me in my weak spot more accurately if he'd seen it painted over my heart. I took in a deep breath. "Jacob," huge sigh, "I believe that inside of you is a very good man. I saw much evidence of this growing up. Dad knew it. But lately, for a long time, really, you disappoint me."

"You're not going to get the last word today, Bella. I watched you at your house the other night. You were worried. The big redhead, she was a wild one. It had your radar up, I mean all of the antennas, baby. He moved, you moved. And she watched you both. She's a real head case, too. And she hates your guts. You can't blame her. She could care less about McCarty, but don't tell him I said so. I think he'll gladly let her use him. Just remember, she's Cullen's type. They're alike. She's been around long enough to see how it goes. He moves through one thing after another. She knows he's restless. And after he does his damage here, she'll still be with him, and you? You are setting yourself up to be gutted."

I stumbled out of there. Edward waited outside, leaning against my truck. He muttered something when he saw me. He stepped toward me, but I waved him away and went quickly to the driver's side. We climbed into the vehicle at the same time, slamming the doors. "What did he do?" Edward asked, eyes searching.

"Nothing." I started the old rumbling engine.

Edward muttered still, pulling on his hair. "I can see how upset you are," he began.

"Jake and I grew up together. Our fathers were friends. We're like…hateful siblings. We know how to hurt each other."

"I wanted to give you some time to get it out with him. I didn't know you'd get the tail end…"

"You don't have to be all involved in this. It's really between him and me. We're a mess. I mean…we've always clashed."

I could tell Edward wasn't satisfied. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees. He said a few things he'd already said in the office. I really didn't want to talk about it anymore.

We were home soon. I pulled in my driveway and sat there. We were just breathing there, just staring at the garage I couldn't put the truck into because the door quit working a long time ago.

I didn't want to imply that Jacob had something on Edward. I didn't want to encourage a feud of some kind.

"There was a time, few years back when we were kids, that I tried to date Jacob. It was a disaster. It ruined our friendship pretty much. He's never forgiven me. Worse, I really fell in love with the guy I dated after him, so I basically dumped Jacob and abandoned him. He um, hates me, loves me, hates me. It's just always there, eventually…the hate." I was silently bouncing my tense hand on the steering wheel. I felt like a fool for sharing my adolescent angst with Edward, and more the fool that it was still a factor in my adult life.

"I feel like I brought all of this trouble on you," he said.

A slow creeping dread was working on me. Why did Jake call him unstable? He'd been anything but. I saw him as highly organized and driven. If anyone seemed unstable in that office today, it wasn't Edward.

"Edward, you said you got to a troubled place and you needed to start over. I know it's personal. You don't have to…but…what happened?" I had reached for him, settling my hand on his arm.

He looked at me, smiled. "I'd tell you," he said low-voiced, "but there's a certain cat laying underneath your rocking chair."

It was the last of my trio. I bolted from the truck to carry this last friend into my house. Edward came in and closed the door. I let Boots leap to the floor,. Edward motioned toward my couch, and I kicked off my shoes and sat. He sat near me, not like by the river, but closer than he might have.

"I told you about my mother dying. Her loss hit me hard. It still does. Sometimes it is the most outrageous idea, that she's gone. It's like I can't believe it. Then other times it just is. I know it fully, and I'm so angry."

"Sounds about right," I said, relating.

"Yeah, I guess you would know. It's so odd the way our lives parallel on that." His smile was so lovely, but I could easily see the heartbreak in his eyes, hear it in his voice. I wondered what he'd been like without it. Even when he seemed happy to me, I knew there was something fragile in it. I suppose I identified on some subconscious level. I recognized a likeness in him, a mirror of sorts.

"Anyway, I went into this downward slide. I held it all in. It was dark. Everything that had meant something, meant nothing. I couldn't bear any of it. I tried to take a few weeks to rest, but I grew worse. I didn't realize that years of emotional neglect were catching up with me. I felt like I was loosing it." I could feel the revelation coming. I tried to steel myself by practicing a casual posture. I smiled at him to encourage him to continue.

"Bella, I don't want you to pity me when I tell you this. I don't want to worry you, or make you in any way feel responsible for me, or start holding back like you can't tell me what's on your mind. I love that about you, your outspokenness. I fear you'll treat me differently if I tell you the truth. Promise you won't. Promise me."

"I reserve the right to do whatever the hell I want, to feel whatever I want to feel, Edward. So go on."

He laughed a little, but it didn't lift the sadness in his eyes at all. "You know just what to say. My god, that was the perfect response, you have no idea."

"Quit stalling."

He laughed again, grabbing my hand in the process. "But you have to promise me."

"No. Tell me."

He laughed some more. His face was flushed, his eyes were shiny. "I ended up making a serious attempt on my life. I…tried to commit suicide."

I pulled my hand away and slapped him on the arm.

I stared at him, his body hunched over, protecting itself from me.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Say something."

"I so mad at you." Me.

"I know. I told you I'm an ass."

"Stop it. Stop all self-deprecation."

"Not possible. I know myself too well."

"You don't know yourself at all. If you did…you couldn't harm yourself. You don't want to harm a cat, a feral cat that actually disgusts you. And yet…you tried to harm yourself. How long ago?"

"Seven months." He looked ashamed.

"Don't hide from me." I scooted closer. My eyes were incredulous-lazers.

He lifted his head. "I'm not hiding from you. I'm just…not proud."

"I think suicide is ultimate pride."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"And how did you form this conclusion?"

"My mother. My mother killed herself when I was eight years old."

"Holy crap. Bella, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I seem to keep bringing you pain."

"Stop with the sorry, Edward. Telling me is okay. It's okay. Trying to harm yourself, then, or now or ever, ever, ever is not okay. Be sorry that you tried such a thing, be so fucking sorry. But don't you ever, ever apologize for telling me about it."

"Oh god Bella, honey, calm down. It's okay. I am sorry. I am sorry. But not for telling you. Okay. You're right. You're right, honey." And he moved against me, like before, but I was barely aware, yet so aware. We were beyond semantics, what was where, touching what. He'd opened his soul, I'd opened mine, and we crashed into one another feeling all the sharp edges, all the slime, all the surprising solids. I was not confused.

I was crying, but it wasn't anything. It was just real. It was punctuation. Everything I said, everything, was from my guts. I was reading to him what was written there. It was all in my handwriting, but my mother had taught me what to say.

"What do you know, now?" I asked sounding desperate, clutching at his shirt, "What do you know?"

He was shaking his head, running his hands up and down my back, touching my cheek, trying to soothe me.

"Tell me," I was weeping, hating my voice, not caring, looking into him, looking in, my face so close, not close enough.

"I know you're beautiful," he whispered.

I shook my head. "Tell me, tell me," I was strangling.

He was crying, swallowing against it, trying to suck it back in. Then finally, "I want to live, Bella. I want to live. I want to live."

He went down on his knees, put his head in my lap, his arms locking around my waist, and I buried my face in his hair. We sat that way for a long time, damp, shaking, breathing, but every few minutes, I would whisper to him, to us both, one word, "Edward."


	11. Chapter 11

The night when I told Bella about my suicide attempt, time gave way to something that was all at once painstakingly real, and not like any reality I'd known. Her body was my anchor. I stopped thinking, and let my feelings ooze free. I wasn't alone. I didn't have to think of how to get to her. She just barged in and ripped me open. Then she held onto me while the tornado blew around us. At first I thought we'd splinter apart, or fracture one another. But she insisted, and she was clear, and I heard her, and she stayed with me. It hurt, but then I quit trying to hold it all together. I'd never cried like that. I wanted to be ashamed of it in hindsight, but I couldn't be. It came from a place I couldn't tack together anymore. I wasn't in control. I had to surrender.

So I'd laid on the altar of her sweet, small lap, limp, spent, holding onto her, just holding on. She ran her fingers through my hair for hours, I think. I don't know. I never slept, I grew so quiet, I had never been so still, inside, all the way in, just there, so present, so washed, purely myself.

Eventually I lifted my head, eyes wrecked from the flood, heavy with aftermath, looking at her, such beauty, such a well of holy life. "Do you know," I said, but my throat wouldn't give. What I thought, what I knew, Bella Swan, Bella Swan. Oh my god.

A kiss on her sweet lips. Warm, soft, delicious.

Oh my god I am starving. Do you know how fiercely hungry I am? For you?

I could grind her down with my need.

But I say goodnight to this angel. I pull lightly on the ends of her hair, and I make my feet carry me across the street. But in the morning, I am at the church, in my pew, and she enters later, walks quietly to where I sit, and moves in beside me. Shy morning eyes, so sleepy and sweet brown sugar, and she nudges me with her elbow and we share a song book, but I don't sing, and neither does she, but we look at one another and smile.

Afterward, I tell her I need to speak with Ben. She offers to wait. I tell her I'll see her back home. She is home.

Ben leads me to his office. Heavy stamps of family here, a chair for Ben, a chair for me, a small chair and Riley's possessions littering about. Framed Angela and Ben smile, Riley held between them like a sign of the covenant they've made.

"I've waited too long," I say. "I took pills. Serious pills. Nearly died. Coma." I say all the words, sandpapered raw and ugly. Truth can be so ugly, but I'm clawing to the beauty, the air.

Here's what I do to stay transparent. Here's what I know.

So I tell him all, and he looks pensive.

He tells me my life isn't mine to take. And I know. I know.

He pulls me back. Eyes out of the microscope, he says. Look through the binoculars. I get it. I get it. The picture is big.

So, to Bella. I would think less of him if he didn't. "We love her." Him.

"Yes." Me.

I'm not out to hurt her, I assure him. Yes, she told me about her mother.

"She's grown up protected," he says. "Bella isn't like most women. She does not reach out. She was taken to a dark place when young, and it made her who she is. It changed her." He will not allow me to hurt her. He does not trust me. He cannot trust me. Who am I? I have to show him, and there is one way, I have to be the real thing. I must not exploit Bella. If I am a friend, a friend in every deed, and I do not take anything, then he will start to trust me.

"And," he continues, his eyes lit with a serious fire, "no sex."

I think he's gone too far now.

"I mean no sex. Bella does not…cannot give herself casually."

I know he won't believe it, but I understand.

"If she gives herself to you, and you leave, she will shatter. If you love her, I need to see the sacrifice. No sex. If you burn…you marry. But no taking Bella without a to-the-grave commitment. That's the only thing I can trust." He is a plain man, in looks, in speech and manner.

"I think the Methodists have beat you to the diner," I remind him.

"For Bella, I can wait."

"There's something else, then." Me.

He sighs, and steels himself, hands folding over his stomach.

"I'm the pilot of an Aeronca Champ. It's a small plane. I want to invite Bella to take a trip with me. She won't be compromised, I promise. But with my history, I wanted to let someone know my plan."

"Okay…you're pushing it here." He is agitated.

"I realize it's a dark joke. But I never wanted to kill myself in a plane. I took pills. It was a quick decision…desperate. You have nothing to fear. I would protect Bella with my life. No question. I'm a good pilot. She'll be safe."

"Oh dear shit," he sighs, rubbing the place where his glasses had been perching on his nose. "Pardon my lapse. I know preachers shouldn't say shit, but I've got to tell you Edward…you've managed to break me down."

"I know. It's a stretch. But I'm not suicidal. I have deep remorse for those actions, and everyday I try to live the change."

I went through my process with him, the prayer, the study, the accountability.

"Well, Bella is an adult, fully capable of making sound decisions. You'll have to ask her, of course. But I'll tell you this, if something happens due to your negligence, I am in the forgiveness business, but don't assume…I've got a gun, and a golf club."

We end up shaking hands. He prays with me, fervently for our safety. We emerge friends, or at least he is willing to give me a shot. Or shoot me.

So two weeks later when I've trapped four of the cats, Bella agrees to accompany me on a short flight to the city to deliver the animals to a no-kill shelter where they've got a good chance of finding a home. I am ecstatic. We've been together nearly everyday. I've smoked her a pork roast, a chicken, salmon, turkey legs, and she's allowed me to help her bake a batch of bread, and taught me to make fresh pesto. We've swapped books. She's picked out a color for my Master bathroom and told me the best place to buy spices. Emmett is helping me fix her garage door. Jasper is building a gazebo in my backyard.

So on a Saturday morning, we drive out to the small airstrip on the outskirts of Forks.

BPOV

Edward wore jeans and a short-sleeved navy blue button down shirt. He wore sunglasses, which led to a whole new reason for me to stare at him. He was a great diversion because I am a really nervous flier, and I've never been in a small plane.

But Edward was competent at the hangar. I tried to stay quiet and out of the way, but he brought me into everything as he did the pre-flight walk-about, checking control surfaces and removing tie-downs and wheel chucks, his body moving fluidly, strong, lean. When the plane was on the strip, we embarked, and he checked fuel and gauges. He primed the engine, his hands familiar and confident on the controls, his forearms sinewy as he flipped levers and adjusted navigational equipment. Forks didn't have a tower, so Edward blind-called the hangar and talked over the weather. His voice always had a fluidity, was never sharp. He talked over the flight path and destination. His hands and feet were working as we taxied down the runway. He ran through a series of checks. Then we turned and picked up speed. Pretty soon we were lifting up, up into the blue sky. "Crrrrrap," I had to say, and he grinned.

Edward's ease and strength and obvious happiness inspired my confidence, but still, my stomach and my butt-cheeks clenched as we rose. I made myself pay attention, looking at the broadening landscape beneath us. I was busy picking out landmarks—the water tower, the diner, the high school, the police station, Jacob's cruiser. I realized my mouth was open, then I was biting my lip.

Edward's sheer joy made him all the more beautiful. When we laughed, the sound got swallowed away. He kept glancing at me, seeming to enjoy my fascination. I thought of that Dave Matthew's song, You and Me Together. I wondered what we could do if we threw in together…like permanently. What a dumb thought. He hadn't even tried to kiss me since that night of nights when all hell had broken loose and he'd kissed me, charming my very soul. Now he treated me like a good friend. There were touches, but they were big brother touches, not too unlike Emmett's or Jasper's. But what they did to me…definitely not sisterly reactions.

I looked guiltily at Edward. He looked back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm good."

Maybe I needed to work on that. Maybe he needed some encouragement. I had feminine wiles, didn't I? I had a whole library of Cosmo Girl at my disposal. And I had Alice and Rose. We hadn't talked since my visit. But they'd be all over this.

"Look, Bella," Edward said, nodding in the direction of the river. It was a distant silver ribbon winding through the trees.

I shook my head. I reached and touched him them, willing him to be brave enough to look at me, to see what I was feeling.

His look was brief, but his eyes widened before he gave the instruments his attention. I saw his throat bob. The skin twitched along his forearm as I lightly ran my finger up and down the smattering of dark hair there. I pressed my fingers against the back of his wrist, and his hand stayed gripped on the controls. So I moved my touch all the way up his arm to his shoulder. I rubbed his shoulder, and he swiveled his neck a bit. So I moved higher, to his neck and rubbed it. I liked touching him. So much. His body felt right, and a little familiar after the night of comfort we'd shared on my couch. It hadn't been sexual, not completely, but it had broken through a barrier and created familiarity. Yes, I loved touching him. And from the brief notification I'd just witnessed in his eyes as he'd looked at me with a little smoke around their corners, he loved having me touch him.

Good to know. Yeah, I was flying now.


	12. Chapter 12

Catwoman 12

"Bella, this is my Aunt and Uncle, Carlisle and Esme."

Wow. Carlisle was intimidatingly handsome. Good thing Edward had already broken me into the family gene pool. It kept me from hyperventilating when Carlisle shook my hand. Esme hugged me. They both smelled good, too. And they seemed excited that I was in the life of their beautiful boy. I had no idea why. I handed them the bread Edward and I had made together. Bringing the big Challah loaf was Edward's idea. You would think it was their first grandbaby the way they ooohed and ahhhed.

I've never been good with cars, but this one was expensive, and kind of champagne colored. White interior. I tried to cover my gasp as I climbed in. Edward and Carlisle were loading our small bags and big loaf. Edward had made arrangements for the transportation of the cats. He and Carlisle were speaking rapidly. Esme turned to me from the front seat.

"Edward looks so healthy," she said. Yes, Edward was quite the healthy one. I had described him that way myself, and it fit.

"We're good friends," I answered, scrambling for a definition we could all live with. I didn't know how Edward described us, but 'friends' was as accurate and generic as 'healthy.'

"Carlisle and I have been so anxious to meet you. Edward can't say enough kind things about you. I think you've inspired him in so many ways."

Not in all ways. Not nearly. I'd been letting my hand crawl all over him in the plane, practically singing, Inch worm, Inch worm, measuring the miracles. And all he'd given me was this beatific smile that only frustrated me more.

I'd had those two dates with that guy back at Alice's. He'd found me attractive. I knew I was small, but Esme was just as small. And Carlisle obviously didn't see her as his little sister.

"Are you hungry?"

"Maybe when I've been on the ground for a while," I answered, glad she couldn't read my thoughts.

"Oh, motion sick?" Her skin was so flawless, her make-up subtle, but effective. She was so lovely in all this white leather.

"Yes."

"I know just the thing to settle your stomach. We'll be at the house in a few minutes."

I enjoyed the ride with Edward. His legs were spread, so his knee was close to mine. It was a big backseat, but he was still kind of big in it. I caught myself leaning toward him, then realized he was also leaning toward me. But with Carlisle's great suspension, we just couldn't get the big bump in the road we needed to knock us together. However, call me crazy, but I could feel his heat, especially when he stretched his arm behind me and talked non-stop to Carlisle about the flight, the cats, Forks, the shelter, in a voice that was like my favorite CD. I felt a little tug on the ends of my hair. It's like a current ran through the strands firing up my brain with lust.

I hoped Esme wouldn't bring up my sick stomach. Edward seemed kind of proud of me for enjoying the plane ride. I didn't want to ruin it by being feeble. Silly, I know, but still.

'The house,' as Esme had referred to it, was a modern sprawl that fit the landscape.

"I didn't know Frank Lloyd Wright was still active," I joked, trying to sound more sophisticated than giving out a, "golly gee!"

They all laughed. It wasn't that funny, but apparently I could do no wrong.

Once inside, I did say, "Shazam."

They laughed again, and Edward pulled my hair. Esme and Carlisle went in the kitchen to lay out lunch, and Edward wanted to give me the tour.

"Okay. Seriously? Seriously?" I kind of hissed, digging my nails into his arm by the time I'd seen the whole lower floor, the tall glass windows that opened to the woods beyond, the grand piano, the open fireplace, the art, the wood, the area rugs that made my ankles wobble.

"My aunt's a decorator," he laughed, like that explained everything.

"Edward, I consider myself a decorator…of sorts. Wal-Mart. Yard sales. If I'm really feeling risky, Target. Do you see the great divide?"

He laughed. "I love your home." We had joined hands and they were swinging between us.

She said I inspired him. To do what? Hide-out in Forks?

"Edward," I whined, "what are you doing in Forks?"

He looked at me like I'd said the naughty thing. "Bella," he rebuked, "I told you. I love my new home. I love Forks."

"Edward," I whined again, "are you c-r-a-z-y?" I had stopped closer, looking up at him. And he raised his hand, took his finger, and lightly bopped my nose.

"Silly Bella." He adored me. I was adored. I was adorable? Did one ever do the deed with adorable? One of the cats had been adorable.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I had kind of wandered off. Here I was, so close to him. I had to pay attention.

Carlisle and Esme called us to lunch, breaking the strange bubble we'd been in.

Esme had made me a smoothie to settle my stomach. Edward was concerned. Did I need to lie down? I assured him I did not. I thanked Esme for the smoothie. But the pasta looked good, too. I had both. And was miraculously healed.

We drove to the no-kill shelter and saw the cats settled in. We toured the shelter and Edward asked a million questions. He was excited, believing he could shuttle many of the animals through here. I could only imagine the whooping donation he'd made.

Carlisle and Esme showed us some of the local shops and the riverfront. We strolled along and read the historical placards. We had a light dinner in a little restaurant with a balcony that overlooked the river. We sat near the railing as the sun set, an orange ball of fire. Carlisle toasted Edward's new endeavor, and we laughed and clinked our stemware. I felt Edward's foot nudge mine. He'd done that before. I pressed my foot back. I hoped this wasn't Morse Code for, "you are adorable." I knew that wasn't the message I sent back.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

We'd had a splendid evening. It culminated in Edward playing piano for us all. He played Beatle tunes, then a little Rachmaninoff, followed by some of the score from Phantom of the Opera. At the end he threw in some original work, just to show off. He was absorbed in the music, the glow from the lamp lighting his hair just enough, shadowing his face just enough. He was light and mystery to me. What couldn't he do?

Esme and Carlisle kept beaming at me. I found my cheeks starting to tremble from the tension I held around my mouth. I was trying not to cry. All I could think was, this man tried to end his life! The music pulled it out of me. His posture the night he told me, my lap so wet with his tears. The emotions it raised in me. How could he want to end this? How could he have thought so little of himself?

And my mother…oh no. I had to get a grip. So I kept trying to smile at Esme and Carlisle. But when Edward broke into the Beatle's tune, "Yesterday," I had to bolt. I was so embarrassed. Hopefully they'd think I had to use the bathroom, but running from a room with your hand over your mouth….

"Bella," Edward called coming after me. "Bella!"

I didn't know where I was going. They hadn't yet shown me to my room. I went through the kitchen to the patio doors, but they were locked. He came up behind me. I glanced at his reflection, but I was crying. "I need air."

He rubbed my arm, reached over my head and snapped the lock. I fumbled to open the door like there was a fire, like he was the fire.

I stepped quickly to the railing, but I wanted to leap over it and run. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Sorry."

"For what? It's alright." He said, his hand on my back.

I took in a breath then, turned to him quickly and hugged him so tightly. I didn't care if my breasts were smashed against him. I gave him my whole self.

Slowly his arms encircled me, and his face was pressed against the top of my head.

His hand patted rhythmically on my back. I'd had my eyes scrunched closed, but I opened them now. I felt myself calming.

I could see Esme and Carlisle in the kitchen, talking to one another. I imagined them debating about what to do.

I pulled back a little. Edward immediately raised his head, his eyes serious as he looked at me.

"We need to go back inside, Edward. I just got a little…."

"It's alright, Bella. You don't have to worry about it. They're used to me, afterall." His voice was soft, his smile kind.

Esme pulled the door open. "Edward, Carlisle and I are getting ready to say goodnight. We've put Bella in the blue room. Did you want me to show her up, or Bella, you can go up with Edward?"

"Oh," I looked to Edward, but he was noncommittal, not pulling away, holding his arms in place around me.

I stepped back a little. "I'll go with you, Esme," I said.

He pushed a wisp of hair behind my ear and released me.

I started to follow Esme, but looked back at Edward when he asked, "Are you coming back down?"

I was so tired, but I didn't want to disappoint him. "What time is it?"

"It's eleven," he said.

"I'll probably go to bed then."

He followed me into the kitchen. We exchanged goodnights. I followed Esme up the sweeping staircase. She was so elegant, and her posture was really like finishing school great. I followed her nude colored high heels onto the balcony, then down the hallway. My room was at the very end. Blue and modern. The bed looked king-sized. Esme pulled back the covers and turned on the small nightstand lamp. She turned on the bathroom light. I could see the black marble. I stood there, taking it all in. She walked quickly toward me and hugged me. Her grip on my arms was surprisingly strong. Her eyes were damp when she pulled back. "Bella…if you need someone like me to talk to…I'm here for you."

"Thank you. I just…Edward's music." Here came the tears again. I really wasn't much of a crier as a rule. When Charlie died I was all cried out. Until lately. Until Edward.

Esme went into the bathroom and returned with a handful of Kleenex. I took them and wiped my face. "Thanks."

"Edward's music, yes," she said. She led me to the bed and we sat.

"Edward's mother was my sister," she said, fingering the pearls around her neck and staring forward affectionately. "My big sister."

"He's told me that she died. I'm sorry."

Esme viewed me now, moving my hair behind my ear like Edward had. "Edward is like her. Did he tell you about himself?"

"You mean…."

"His attempt…." Her.

"Yes. That's why I had to leave the room. It welled up. He's such a beautiful person."

"How does he seem to you?" she asked.

"Um, I didn't know him before, obviously." I wasn't entirely comfortable with this line of conversation.

"I don't mean to put you on the spot, but I can see he's fond of you. Very fond."

I laughed a bit. "We're friends."

"I'm glad. He hasn't really had many friends."

I looked surprised. Should she be telling me something so personal? Would Edward appreciate this?

"You didn't realize?" Her.

I shook my head no. "How could I know?"

"Tell me…you don't find it hard to know him?"

I didn't know what to say. What was she getting at? "I don't think so. I mean…what do you mean?"

Now she laughed, but it was nervous. "Carlisle and I can't get over how comfortable you are with one another. We've never seen Edward like this. Not with anyone."

Vickie flashed through my mind. But it seemed pathetic to milk Esme for information. At least at this stage of our acquaintance.

"Like what?" Me.

"He's so tuned in to you."

"He's very compassionate," I said, almost defensively.

"I know. But it's more than that. He gets you."

"Maybe." The minute I said it I wanted to take it back. Yes, he got me. Not completely.

Yet he'd held me on the deck. He really always knew. So if he didn't reciprocate…he chose not to. What did I expect?

"You don't know about him," she said like she was guessing. "He hasn't told you about the past? What he's been through?"

"Other than his mother? Of what came after?"

"Okay. He hasn't told you. I'm sure he will. In time." She stood then, smoothing over her skirt. "You're such a lovely woman. So good for Edward." She beamed at me. How frustrating to raise such mystery then say goodnight.

Once in bed, body beaten by heated water jets that went from the top of my head to my toes, I laid there staring at the ceiling. A soft knock on my door. The soft sound of my name. I got up and cracked the door. It was him. He was not yet ready for bed. He held a glass. Warm milk. "Esme used to make it for me when I was upset."

I reached for it.

"Watch it, it's hot," he said, entering my room and walking over to my nightstand and placing the milk. I stood there in my knit shorts and undershirt. He only glanced at me, walking closer.

"I was worried about you, I'll admit. The milk is good, but it was just a ruse. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Esme's words seemed out of place. Could she be wrong about him, not having many friends. Was there some difficulty I needed to know about. I already knew the worst thing, didn't I?

"Let me tuck you in?" he said, hand lightly touching my shoulder, leading me toward the bed.

I walked obediently, hands clasped before me, bare feet moving over the deeply piled rug.

I got in the bed and tucked my feet beneath the covers, then laid back. He pulled the covers over me. Then he got down on one knee and leaned his elbows on the mattress. He was close. "Bella, I hope you've enjoyed this."

"It's been great," I said. "Esme and Carlisle are nice."

"They are," he agreed, picking at an errant thread on my cover. "Bella, the music made you sad?"

His brows were dark slashes over his eyes. It was powerful. "Yes. Edward, you're gifted. It hit me again. So hard. You tried to end it…yourself, the music. Why? You haven't really said why."

"I don't know what good it does to go through it all. It's the past now. I'm moving forward."

"So I can know you better," I said.

"I don't want to bring you down," he said.

"You won't. I want to know why?"

"So you can understand your mother."

"No. Of course not."

"Okay. It doesn't matter, Bella. I don't want to hide it from you, I just don't want to keep hurting you."

I stared at him, waiting.

"When I was born, I didn't talk on time. I didn't talk at all. My mother would hold me, and look in my eyes, and she would think, something is wrong. But I seemed healthy. But she got afraid. She didn't know if she could handle something being wrong with me. My father had left her right after my birth, so she was alone, and easily overwhelmed."

He readjusted his elbows on the bed. The searching fingers abandoned the thread, and now toyed with the hem on my shorts. "I was diagnosed as autistic. Severely so. I was in my own world, one my mother couldn't figure out how to enter.

"My mother had money. She was heir to a large trust. So she took me around the globe seeking other opinions and treatments. She finally latched on to the idea that I was being poisoned by my environment. We lived in a camp for a while, a pure environment. I started to show progress, a tiny awakening. After a while she moved us back home. She ceased having me vaccinated, and completely stripped our home of all synthetics and chemical materials. She completely changed my diet. She hired a barrage of therapists—speech, motor, cognitive. Everyday I was studied and challenged in a variety of ways.

"At five years old I started to finally speak. First one word. Mom. Then more words. Two words together, then three, then partial thoughts, then whole thoughts. I slowly started to learn. Then I excelled at some things. Others I was barely average.

"But I still struggled with relationships. It became evident, I couldn't read people very well. I couldn't understand nuance or subtlety. I couldn't figure out how people perceived me. Except I knew I was weird and different and they didn't want much to do with me. And really it was fine. More fine for me than it was for Mother. So pretty soon, I took off in things I excelled in, and ignored most of the rest. People were particularly painful and frustrating. Couple that with having enough money and fluff around that I tended to attract attention which only led to more people approaching me, and more frustration.

"I was good at rescuing things. I knew how to enter those kinds of relationships…eventually. Once I spotted the danger, the peril, I could approach it as a problem that needed solved. That gave me a way to move toward someone in a way that was valuable. That's how I met Vickie. A summer camp. Poor impulse control, another problem. Self-discipline got easier once others drew me clear boundaries. It was clear how Vickie needed me. She's hardly defenseless, but she couldn't take on the world alone, and I had nothing better to do. I became her protector, of sorts. She was the first person I got close to who seemed more lost than myself. I became a type of role model for her. You can't imagine how that made me feel. I pulled her out of more scrapes. Through high school. Through college. And after. Never romantic. Never anything but what I've said. But loyal to the cause that is her. She, in turn, has taught me a lot."

No comment on the part about Vickie. "How could you be autistic? Did you outgrow it?"

"Yes. Largely. If that's what it really was. It was also called a processing gap...a difference in how I process things. But I still struggle to know basic things...like how I come off. And sometimes in certain things...people are hard for me to read."

I couldn't comprehend all of this at once. He'd been isolated. "Am I difficult?"

"I think back on how I got in with you. In my mind it's like a threshold I have to get across, and with you it was effortless. There were so many things to use—the bread, the cats, the house, Emmett and Jasper, the church, Angela and Ben and Riley. And you, wrapped around all of it. Bella, you are the exception to everything." He smiled, lips stretching beautifully.

"So how did all of this work and struggle spiral into suicide?" I whispered.

He picked up my hand and put it against his as he'd done before, comparing sizes again. "I kept working, achieving, and as relationship after relationship failed, I had this solid under me—my mother. She always understood. She always made me feel like the most functional person. I was her success story. And I played the part. But once she was gone, grief went to despair. Inside had been this terror that if she was gone, I would also disappear. Because who would know me? Who would understand?"

"But you had Carlisle and Esme."

"Mother was estranged from Carlisle. He represented the medical community, and they'd let her down. They'd pronounced me hopeless. She went off on her own. Some of what she tried was quackery. Some of it was revolutionary. Carlisle was skeptical. She saw him as judgmental and not supportive. It caused a break with Esme. When some reconciliation came, it was brief. I maintained a relationship with them without her blessing or approval."

"She was your lifeline."

"She was…suffocating me. When it was time to let go, she couldn't. That's when I started my business. That brought a lot of things out, because I made my own money. I didn't need her to support me anymore. And I was still young, and I grew closer and closer to Carlisle. He prescribed meds for me that helped. But he's not sure that something didn't feed into my impulse to take my life. Anyway, I'm not on anything now. And he's helped me so much. He and Esme have drawn me many lines.

"But Mom took my independence as betrayal. She felt I'd rejected her, when she'd sacrificed everything." He sighed, leaned forward and briefly pressed his forehead against my hip bone. "Bella," he whispered. Then he stood.

I sat up, reached for him. "Hey, don't go."

He seemed to be thinking about it. Then he toed off his shoes. I scooted over and he laid on top of the covers. He was flat on his back. I laid on my side facing him. I was close. I touched his arm with my fingertips. It was a connection.

"Edward, I'm about to get really personal."

"Suicide and Autism aren't personal enough for you?"

We laughed. "Obviously they're like the warm up to the really good stuff." Me. "You played football?"

"Yes."

"Were you popular? I mean, not good at relationships…there's Vickie…unconventional union, yes?"

"Bella, yes. No girlfriend/boyfriend stuff. No sex."

"Did you want to?"

"I am human. And depraved. And not in a million years. I had a time of being loose. Football, and being loose. But I didn't want it. I didn't know how to control it. There was lots of opportunity. It was always there. But it wasn't me anyone wanted. Not when they figured it out. And if they did want me something was wrong. So I kept back. I drew back. That was how to get through. I didn't want to be so close. I was terrified, actually. I can't give myself easily. It was traumatic. Carlisle helped me. For one he made sure I used a condom. But beyond that he rescued me from myself. He taught me how to negotiate, how to hold onto myself."

"Then in later years, I turned to work. Just work. Until the big crack up."

It was quiet for a long time. "So for years you've been celibate?"

"Yes. It's not that I don't want sex, and all the levels of intimacy possible, but I've never found someone…I can't start with sex, I know what a disaster it is. Then there's my faith. I can't exploit people. And Ben…."

I sat up like a bird dog in point at the mention of Ben. "Angela's Ben? Our pastor?"

"Yes," Edward said, resignation in the three letter word.

"What about Ben?"

"He's a good man. He drew a line for me, a good line, even if I don't want it. I mean…he's a good man."

"What line did he draw? I mean, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Bella, I've told you a lot of things, agreed?" he touched my chin and turned his face my way.

"You don't want to tell me this one little thing?"

"Not right now."

We talked some more, about my mom, about high school. I told him a little more about Jacob, and that he'd been my first kiss, my first groper, but just above the waist. He laughed, but he said he didn't like it. "Jacob looks at you like you're something to eat," he said with disgust. "Even I can read him."

I told him a bit about Mike. My one and only heart-stomper. But that old story put me to sleep. Literally.

In the morning, Edward was still there. His back was to me, his shirt ridden up, exposing a smooth back and a tapered waist. I studied him until he woke up. It's like he sensed my scrutiny. He rolled over and grinned at me. "I stayed," he said, laughing a little.

"What will Esme and Carlisle think? They didn't put us in the same room, not that we would have wanted that. Is this terribly disrespectful?" I whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" he whispered.

"Shame," I said a little louder.

"We're good," he said. Then, "Come 'ere." He extended his arm in invitation for me to move closer and pillow my head on his shoulder. I did, and he wrapped his arm around me.

We lay like that, my knees against his side. I was in the fetal position. We were well down the road of using our bodies to comfort one another. I didn't know where we thought this was headed. I hadn't bothered to take its temperature. It just felt amazing to be close to him.

"Edward, we sure have been spending a lot of time together. I…don't want to be another Vickie." I was cringing that I said that. It wasn't kind and it reeked of manipulation. But it seemed preferable to honesty.

"Vickie isn't bad. I'm not suffering when she's around. I just need to step back some. But when I was bad off, she was around. It scared her. I've had a lot of guilt. So things are a little out of control. I figured when I moved it would help, but it's not enough. I'm planning what to say. I don't want to hurt her."

I didn't like any of this, but I had no right not to like it.

"Well," I said, "she's got really big boobs."

He laughed then, rolled on his side and tickled me. I can't stand to be tickled, and I already had to pee, so I kicked my feet and squirmed around, and it wasn't funny, but I couldn't stop laughing. "Shhh!" I tried to say. He stopped then, holding me, nose to nose. "Carlisle," I said. Then he moved in closer and we were kissing. And I moaned like a cow. I cut it off, horrified it came out of me, but his lips were so warm and just wet enough to not be too wet, but just right, so right, and those lips, that kiss were transporting me to the world of Edward Cullen.

He pulled back, "Oh sweet Bella," he whispered.

I touched his lips to shush him. There were problems. I couldn't articulate them, so they shouted at me of their own volition. First of all, he was only seven months into recovery from suicide. I didn't do suicidal anyone. Just no. Secondly, we were neighbors. No brainer. Thirdly, he had problems relating. This is what Esme intimated. They were amazed, capital A-mazed at our connection. He didn't have many friends. Vickie. Case in point. Red flag. Four. Forks had to be a fluke. It was his low-self-esteem move. It couldn't last. Money. Music. Pilot. Business. Philanthropy. The cats were a detour. He was playing. He was on vacation from his real life. Lastly, I was not a girl. I was a grown-ass woman. I should know better.

I stared at his mouth. I liked it so much. It was a portal to love and sex. I was starving for both. I knew it was pathetic, but I had been alone for a long, long time. I had turned into a catwoman. And here was this beautiful embodied soul, offering his lips, his supple, manly lips to me, and I…pressed my lips on his, just to have one more shred of evidence for falling into him, or not.

We lay on the big bed, in the blue room, in Carlisle and Esme's house, and necked, purely necked, for one hour. We only stopped because Esme, in her sweet voice, called up the stairs that breakfast was ready. It was hard to hear anything over the slushing beat of my own awakened heart. I had been lost, lost in the sensation of Edward's mouth mating with mine. His lips were deep red and swollen. He was breathing like a good athlete who'd just run back for a pass. His hair had been pulled into spiky hunks all over his head. I had kept my hands there. His had not strayed from my back where they'd pressed into me holding me against him. We'd kept anything below the waist pretty much apart.

Just the kissing, just that had made me insane. He'd awakened the ancient sleeping beast in my breast, fittingly enough. It was roaring, howling, it was foaming and breathing fire.

"Breakfast," I said softly.

He didn't laugh. He didn't joke. He just looked at me and breathed.

"What are we doing?" I said softly.

"Don't you know?" he asked.

I knew. I think I did.

"We're falling in love," he whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

Catwoman 14

It was on the plane ride home that I started to have doubts. I was soaring, on all levels. But there was a reason I was thirty years old and living with cats. I was an island, and Edward Cullen had made it through the alligators on an inner tube. He was such a cutie, all manly on the controls. Even his thighs, even the light hair on the backs of his fingers, placed perfectly. Yes.

I wanted music. His music. And I wanted to kiss some more, an eternal lip-lock. I was greedy and insatiable, already planning Vickie's demise. And that Tanya. We'd see.

He'd said he couldn't read my thoughts, but he looked at me everytime I had a wicked notion, either vengeful or sexual, or filled with how I would ditch him and sell my house.

I needed Rose and Alice. But I didn't want them. Jasper might be a good one to talk to, nah, too jaded. Emmett, never. Angela a real possibility. I had to bounce this off of someone, but I wanted to bounce on Edward more. That was the problem.

He'd said the L-word, back on the bed in the blue room. I'd stayed noncommittal. But I'd gotten up right after. I'd been polite, but had fled to the bathroom. He'd knocked on the door and said he'd see me at breakfast. He'd said, "Bella…are you alright?"

"Yes." I was hoping this was one of those times when he couldn't see the nuances. Was tripping from the bed and practically bolting into the bathroom subtle enough to keep him confused?

"I'll see you downstairs," he'd said.

"Yes."

So I'd washed my face and patted my red scratchy cheeks with face cream. My lips looked like I'd had collagen injections. I looked worked over. Worked up. "Stop it," I commanded myself, leaning close to the mirror.

I kept dousing my face with handfuls of cold water. I ended up looking like I had eaten a strawberry pie.

"Crap, crap, crap," I whispered.

I left my hair down, hoping to hide in it, but resembling a Tim Burton character for sure.

I tried to dress as cutely as possible. These were my man-crushing jean shorts, and my little white blouse looking like it wasn't trying to be sexy and formfitting, and sheer enough to show my bra if you wanted to be a perv and stare hard enough.

I packed up my overnight bag, and tidied up the room, then took a last look at the bed where Edward basically told me he was falling in love with me. Yeah, that was one whole big sentence for the boy who'd had a processing problem.

Each of my steps down the stairs seemed to echo, "Love, love, love, love, love…" Twenty two times.

I reminded myself to hide my cheeks the best I could. I kept my head down and mumbled good morning. Lord, they were cheery. Esme had laid out a lovely buffet. Edward's and my bread was sliced and toasted. Carlisle and Esme were raving about it.

Edward was telling me how he'd been telling them all about the oven. Of course he'd been researching ovens and was an authority on them now. Carlisle shared experiences he'd had eating bread all over the globe. Esme kept staring at me as I sat at the table with them, beside Edward. From me to him, me to him, as if mentally drawing our children.

I had filled my plate with her wonderful food. Edward got up and poured me some coffee, fixing it the way I liked. I put my elbow on the table and propped one side of my face on my hand. By tilting my head a bit I was able to let my hair kind of cover the other cheek.

"How did you sleep?" Esme asked just as I loaded my mouth with a too-big bite of her spinach omelet.

"Mmmmhhff." I tried to make my tone feminine and soft, to make up for the lack of enunciation. I gulped a big swallow of orange juice.

Esme shook her head, like I was wonderful. She went back to eating and Edward set my coffee before me, then sat next to me. The air he'd stirred brought me the faint smell of soap and shampoo. He'd showered and looked fresh. The stubble was scraped from his cheeks. He looked amazing.

"Does your head ache?" he asked sweetly causing Carlisle to peer at me, and Esme to give me her full attention yet again.

I looked down immediately, my hand still covering my cheek, my fork working through the fruit salad. "No."

He nudged me with his shoulder. I laughed a little, not raising my head, not moving my hand. He didn't like it there. He didn't like my elbow on the table. I think he thought I was shutting him out. And I kind of was. I looked like hell. And elbows on the table was a little too down-home, but lacking a burka, I had to improvise.

Esme got up to go to the sink. Carlisle got up to help her. Edward sang to me, "Bella, oh Bella." He pushed back my hair, and pulled gently at my hand. I looked at him then.

"Oh," he whispered. "Did I do that?" He was looking at my face, my lips. Then I was looking at his lips again.

"What?" I asked, all blinky.

Esme and Carlisle could hear us. I wanted to slap my hand over his mouth. Instead, I looked over at them and back to him, trying to give him a signal by grimacing my new big lips—shut-up!

Instead I got a first-hand demonstration of him not getting it. "Oh, Bella, your poor baby skin. I'm sorry." His gentle finger…fingering my face…fingering…my face. And…lightly touching my lips…my swollen l….ipsssssah.

"What's the matter?" Esme.

"Bella's poor face," he said.

"What's the matter?" Carlisle asked, wiping a plate.

I glared at Edward, then turned on my chair to look at Carlisle over my shoulder. "I have sensitive skin. Like really sensitive. I get rashes." And orgasms. I get rashes of orgasms. No. No.

"Would cortisone cream help?" Carlisle.

"No. Time heals…Ben Franklin." I mutter. Then to Edward, "Ben Franklin wrote that. About time."

They were kind enough not to press further. But Edward had to let me know he was sorry. Twice more.

I was abrupt in reply. "It's alright. Enough said."

"Really?" he whispered.

"Trust me. I'm being subtle."

"Oh," he nodded. "Thanks." And he kissed me then, a real smacker, right in front of Esme and Carlisle. They were both wiping dishes, in the box seats, grinning.

I grinned back, because what could I do? So I grabbed him and kissed him back. Carlisle hooted, and Esme gave him a high five.

"They like you," Edward said, standing and pulling me up. He gathered our dishes and told me to finish my coffee.

So I did. And here we were, in the sky riding the wind currents back to Forks. I wondered if this would hold, this…joy. Or when I saw my house, would buyer's remorse set in? I mean he said he was falling in love with me. Falling…too quickly. Impulse control. He'd said that somewhere. Summer camp. For poor impulse control? I'd have to file that away and ask about it soon. At the rate we were moving…. How long did falling take? Was it a long freefall? Was it a leap? It was fast. So freaking fast.

I sneaked a peak at him, and as usual he was smiling at me, right on cue.

I'm thirty. I didn't think it would happen. And now…was it happening? Weren't we violating rules?

I would get out of the way of this. I mean…gah, just those sideburns. They were enough, right there.

Be sensible, my inner librarian screamed at me.

I would answer her every time, reason after reason, until she shut her mouth and went off to…pet a cat.

And I'd start with reason number one. I would give my heart to Edward Cullen because of his sideburns.

And he was lovely, so…yummy.

Reason two, kind.

Three, he played piano.

The librarian was raging now. She was spitting furballs.

Four, that little smile at the corner of his mouth. I reached over and put my finger there.

"What?" he said. Then he grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles.

Five, knuckle kisses.

Six….

But when I got home, two hands on the piano keys crashing down, horrible noise. I unlocked the front door and there she sat, her eyes red and wet, a big ball of Kleenex in her hand, her pokey little legs showing bare and white beneath a cheerleader's skirt?

"Alice!" me

"Where have you been," she accused, leaping across the room to throw herself against me.

She was crushing herself against me. Sobbing.

"What happened?" Alarm speared through me.

I couldn't understand a word she said. Oh wait. Fire. Her shop. Ruined. Lost everything. All my dad left me was in that place.

I patted her back. "It's okay," I heard myself say.

We stumbled to the couch and crashed there. She told me again, and I fed her tissues and patted her shoulder. Then she surprised me. "I want Jasper. I want to talk to Jazz." She was sniffing and hiccupping.

"I don't know…" I said.

She sprang off the couch and headed for the landline. "I don't care, I need to tell him."

"Okay," I said, though she wasn't listening. She never listened to me. Cottonball jumped on my lap then, giving me holy heck for being gone. "Shhh," I said, Alice cry-talking to Jasper in the background, "guess what? Edward and me…we're falling."

Alice's voice rose, but she wasn't paying attention to me. She was pouring it out to Jazz, pouring it out. I didn't know what it would mean. I didn't know. But when she was off, she blew her nose then told me with resolve, "He's coming. He never lets me down. He never has."

He'd come with his wound open and raw and he'd let her stab him all over again. Was that love? Or just plain crazy? But Jasper had no defenses against her. He'd never wavered in his feelings for her. He didn't know how not to love her.

And they'd started so well. Years of devotion.

Oh, they were messing with my glow. I could stop it now. It would hurt, but not like it was going to. Sideburns, voice, smile, eyes, chin and jaw, hair, neck, chest, back peeking at me just that morning. Hands, hands, and so very kind. Music. Cats and causes and cages and piloting an airplane, and kisses and lips and sweet…sweet love.

Jasper knocked. I opened the door. She stood further back, frozen. He stood there, looking at me, desperation, shirt stained, knee of his pants blown out, paint splattered on his boots, hair needing cut, wilder than she ever would have allowed.

Where is she? He's screaming on the inside. So I stepped aside and he took two wide steps and he threw his arms around her and she grabbed him around the neck, and I felt their relief. I felt it.


	15. Chapter 15

Catwoman 15

It reminded me of the two funerals—Dad's and then later Mr. Brandon's. Alice sat around with a pile of Kleenex next to her, her hair greasy and smashed where it normally stood tall, tall where it normally wasn't. Her clothes were layered with various torn shirts, and socks were added at some point, but they didn't match.

She'd done all her mourning upfront, and unless your name was Jasper Whitlock, she was inconsolable. Yes, turn to a brick wall and comfort that. Your time would be much more productive than trying to speak any kind of reason to Alice. But after she was all cried out, it would be over. Then we'd remember why we liked her in the first place.

But not now.

My mourning was more of the 'it takes centuries and the movement of the earth's plates,' variety. I looked fine, but inside the great cataclysmic event was getting ready to implode. And so the agonizing downward spiral began. At a snail's pace. And I looked fine, but you were not getting close. So don't even try.

I was rinsing cups when I thought of him for the ninety-ninth time today, and it was only eight o'clock in the morning. I was on my way to church, almost. I was cleaning up my attempt to provide Alice a breakfast. Jasper had spoon-fed her a few bites of waffle, but she'd pushed it away.

I wanted to pull Jasper aside and tell him to get a grip. She'd had a fire. Her arms were fine. But he was so desperate to be needed by her. I slapped the dishtowel in the drainer.

"Goin' to church," I said.

"Wait," she croaked weakly. "I'll go with you."

She rose arthritically from the sofa. Jazz stood as well, still in yesterday's clothes, and they hadn't been good then, but he'd held her all night on the sofa.

"Alice…" I was going to say church started in thirty minutes, and I'd never known her to take less than an hour to get ready to go anywhere. She toddled off to change, and Jasper ran his hands through his hair and sighed like he'd just dared to take a breath for the first time since she'd called him over here.

"Jasper?"

He looked at me. There was this crazy hope in his eyes. Oh god. No sense telling him to go home and get some rest. "I've got some stuff of Charlie's…"

Edward's car was already gone by the time we piled in the truck. We drove in silence. We were late and I was trying not to be mad. They were singing when we got there. Edward was in our pew. He looked surprised to see that there were three of us, though I'd already texted him that Alice was visiting.

He made room, and offered me my half of his songbook. I held on, and we just smiled at each other. My frustration with Alice took wing then. There were the lips I loved, and the eyes and the eyebrows. There were the sideburns and the ears and the jaw.

"Good morning," I whispered.

It was time to greet one another, and Dr. Gerandy turned around, so I turned into Edward's side. "Help me," I mouthed like I was miserable. I wanted him to baby me, pet me or something.

Edward's eyes shot up to Alice behind me. "You must be Alice. I live in your house," he laughed.

"Yeah. It's funny we've never met. But you changed everything." More tears. Was it possible?

But Jazz was on the job. Poor Jilted Jazz. He had one arm around Alice, and the other reached around us girls to shake Edward's hand.

Before the singing resumed I told Edward, "Ignore her."

"Did I make her cry?"

"No. I'll tell you later. But it's not you." I tried to squeeze up his arm to reassure him, but this was church, and Ben had an eye for those things. He was up there getting ready to preach. How many times he'd made Angela and I laugh as he described the things his parishoners did while he was preaching. I had the potential to top all of his stories.

Edward took my wandering hand and held it tightly in his own, propping our union on his rock-hard thigh. That got Alice's attention. And Jasper's.

Jasper's eyebrows were raised into the shaggy bang-hair. Alice's lips were pursed and there was a smattering of my old friend in her wet gaze.

I smirked at them both. The evidence was right there, we weren't trying to hide. Oh yes, I was sorry about the fire, I really was, but FALLING IN LOVE, here and feeling an inner freak out building, if anyone cared to notice!

Lord knows I've had to listen to their adventures for most of my formative years. And now that I was formed, and I paused here in my thoughts to smile at Edward, Lord knows now that I was formed, I was still having to put up with their relationships coming at me from all directions, so maybe, for once, I could let my worries over them fall away and I could focus on my own strange reactions to this beautiful man. Maybe I could understand why I was caught in the act of wanting this...wanting him...and secretly planning my escape.

Okay, Ben just said, "Pride goeth before a fall." Now what the heck. I was not being proud, I was not ashamed either, though. I wouldn't be ashamed of this dilemma.

My free hand crossed my lap and I let it move to Edward's bi-cep. I gave that a little squeeze and hung on. So essentially, I was kind of being barnacle hands.

Alice pinched me hard in the side. My teeth clenched and my lips rolled in. She did it again, and I turned quickly and hissed at her.

It hurt. I wondered how she'd like a hymnal in the face. Ben was looking. He was saying, "Hypocrite," now. Was he saying that to me? He kept staring. "Whited wall," he said. "Well without water." Why was he looking at me?

Maybe he was looking at Alice. I squinted. It was possible.

Too soon church was over and I detached from Edward. Of course, Ben and Angela make over Alice and Jasper. I could see the numbers rolling in Ben's head. Alice made the standard joke about the ceiling not falling in, and Ben said, no, it would have done that years ago when Bella came. Hardy-har. Then she broke down because laughter might pull her out of her funk, and God forbid that should happen. Ben and Angela took her aside and talked with her. Jasper had his hands in his pockets, patiently waiting outside of their circle. If anyone needed the counseling they were giving Alice, it was Jasper. He was the one in trouble.

I looked at Edward, and he took my hand and pressed his forehead against mine. "I missed you." That voice. It was music.

Gosh. I was missed. "I know," I said all pathetically. "I didn't mean to shut you out, but Alice needed me." Hypocrite. Whited wall. Well without water. I was blindsided by Ben's trifecta.

I was not a martyr. I'd wanted to see Edward last night. We'd planned to see one another after we got home and tended to duty, but there she'd been. That was why I should never have dated my neighbor. There was no space. No room for lies even.

Admit it…admit it Bella Swan, I told myself. I was relieved she was there. I was pretending that she tortured me, but she did not. I was relieved because she gave me a way to hide from Edward, to hide because I found this new love thing overwhelming. So I was pretending it was all wonderful when secretly, I was hiding from Alice, too. And Jasper. Even as they were all around me. Because that's what I did. I was such a hypocrite.

I felt a little sick.

Angela and Ben were done with operation 'rescue Alice.' Now we were all going to lunch. And I just let it happen. So I could hide some more. I was doing it again. That thing I always do. The weak light thing. The fake thing.

He tried to kill himself. What was I thinking? He would betray me. I looked at Jasper. That would be me. Me and my pathetic barnacle hands.

It was the airplane, and Carlisle and Esme and the piano. His beauty, that right there was a real barrier to rational thought. Was I forgetting who I was? Where could I go to get away from him?

But he was so kind. It didn't matter They were all kind at first.

Mom was kind. Did I not remember Mom? They all left.

Look at Jasper. Look at Jasper. At least if I was alone I was already facing the reality without putting myself through another pointless painful exercsie where I tried to find love.

At least lonliness was clear. It was plain. I had gotten very contented there. Granted...his kisses...but I could loosen up and get sex anytime I wanted it. That wasn't hard. I could have affairs. Guys like Garrett. I could go to another town, so I didn't have to see them. Not like, dating a neighbor! Who does that? Probably some people. But they might actually want a relationship.

Jasper was driving Alice in my truck. Ben and Angela were in the lead reserving two tables. The Methodists were coming, and God forbid we care where they sat. Edward and I followed in Edward's car.

I folded my arms and stuck my hands in my armpits. Edward shifted, then reached over and squeezed my knee. We kept squeezing things on each other. He smiled at me. I smiled back. Would he buy it? Would he be able to tell the difference between my fake smiles and my real ones? He seemed happy. I pressed my fingers harder into my armpits. Hypocrite, I called myself.

"Someone's quiet," Edward said.

"Well, I really shouldn't be doing this. I mean, we were gone for two days, then Alice…and I've got a lot of work to catch up on. I should really go in this afternoon."

"Oh. Do you want me to take you home? We could text Ben and Angela…"

"Don't let me stop you from going. I mean…you can go without me."

He was suspicious. It wasn't that he couldn't read between the lines so much as he didn't trust himself to read between the lines. And what man was good at reading between the lines anyway? I just wanted to go home.

"I don't want to go if you're not there. I like all of them, but you're the reason I wanted to be there."

I gulped. I felt guilt, then love, then guilt. It's like I was flipping through a deck of cards my emotions were somersaulting that fast.

I loved him.

"I'm scared," I said. "Don't turn around. We'll go. I'll go in after."

"You have to eat, right? We can eat together at least."

At least? He wanted it all. Why? He didn't know me. If he knew me, he'd run. We were moving too fast. It was too powerful.

Hypocrite, I called myself again. I didn't need to blame him for what I was feeling. This wanting to run was me. He was not running.

But he would.

On that happy thought we entered the restaurant, and sat ourselves in Ben's happy group. Riley was glad to see Edward. Me he could take or leave. Edward gathered him into his arms. Angela apologized ahead of time for what she feared Riley would do to Edward's pristine shirt.

"Do you do you own laundry?" she asked. Then she said to me, "He has the whitest whites."

"So you two?" Ben asked as soon as we ordered.

"Forgive him," Angela. "He's been in people's business so long, he has no filter."

"No problem," Edward said searching for my limp hand and lifting it from my lap like the dead barnacle it had become. He kissed my knuckles, in front of everyone.

Riley said, "Ew."

Edward told him, "Better than French fries."

Everyone loved this. They laughed it up, even Alice, sort of. I smiled in spite of myself.

"Let me know when it's time for some pre-marital," Ben said.

Angela slapped the pastor.

Edward flushed red, but he laughed. "That would be great," Edward said, squeezing my hand where it once again rested on the thigh not taken up by Riley.

And I laughed, so I gulpped some water because I was so not laughing.

I was terrified.


	16. Chapter 16

Catwoman 16

And the terrified feeling wraps itself in my intestines. I try not to think of tapeworms.

Edward asks if I want to accompany him to the nursery so he can order sod for his lawn.

I hedge around. I'm standing in his driveway by his car. "I really need to work." Lies.

"Bella…" he walks around his car, and his shoes make a scuffing noise as he plants his feet before me, a khaki and white colored angel. I make a small squeaking sound and hope he'll think it's a small rabbit who's darting past.

"Yes Edward?"

"Back before when we were driving to the restaurant you whispered something. You said you were scared."

"I did?"

"Yeah, I heard you. You said it kind of softly…but it didn't fit. Sometimes if things don't fit, I think it's me…I think about them and later…" He shoves his car-door closed.

"Oh. I didn't know I said it." Lies.

He looks at me for a moment. The breeze moves his hair, the sun is harsh on his face, and his skin is pure. His eyes are covered by his dark glasses, so I can't see them, but I feel their penetration. In the unique wiring of his brain he's trying to let the data come together. He's trying to figure me out, but he's not smiling, he's studying.

It's a stare-off. My eyes are starting to water because I'm not even blinking. Why don't I just tell him? I don't want him to take it personally. I'm a panicker. How do you tell someone that? I want love. I do. I want to love him. But I'll keep panicking. And acting like I'm not. It's so dishonest. Isn't that what I'm faulting Alice for? The dishonesty? We always loathe in others what we loathe in ourselves. Maybe if I'd deal with some of my crap I could be kinder to my friends.

I clear my throat. "It's all really new. I'm feeling a little swept away."

"What's new…you and me?" He looks at me over the tops of his glasses, really trying to hear me.

"Yes. And it's fast. Powerful, too."

"I've waited a long time to fall in love," he says, accurate in what he says, as always.

"I wasn't waiting. I was holding down the fort."

He laughs. "Not laughing at you…"

"I know…near me."

He laughs again.

"I mean…let's look at the facts, Edward. I know I look all independent and settled now, but a little over a year ago…I still lived with my dad. I mean…that's Amish or something, right? See, Edward, you should know…I had a bad break up. And after that, after college and the bad break-up…I moved in with my Dad. I went home. It's what I do. You think I'm kind of interesting. Well, being home a lot just makes you think about a lot of things. You do a lot of things…but there're not such a big deal. They're, perhaps, pathetic in some ways. I play the autoharp, Edward. It started with the dulcimer, a program at the library, then went to the autoharp, long story. I bake in an oven in my backyard. I paint, walls and things. I cook. Because there's a kitchen and like you said, I have to eat. I garden. And I preserve some of my food. Quit a lot actually," I shake my head, "I mean it's no big deal in terms of world accomplishments. Oh and I go to yard sales. And I do some volunteer work at church when Ben can guilt me in, and I travel through reading. I…help people find information for their lives. For their travels. I get rashes. I'm feeling itchy right now, in fact. I live a small life, a very small life, an old lady's life, and you…oh my word don't get me started. You…Edward…"

He takes my hand, "Bella…my Bella. You look so pretty in that dress…."

"You fly an airplane. I drive a truck. You are wealthy. I am a member of the oppressed middle class. We fight the wars, Edward, we pay the taxes, we can't really afford a prolonged catastrophic illness. If we get Autism, we just struggle. But you…you've traveled the world, you've lived in a sterile environment, led a company…philanthropy? What? Hundreds of freaking thousands…Vickie…hates me. Tanya. Cars and clothes. Hair…woven in, shoes with red soles, handbags that cost more than the entire credit line hiding in my flea market purse. What are we doing? I got in your sites. You're amusing yourself with the bumpkin from Forks?"

"Stop it, Bella. You told me no more self-deprecation. Did you try to take your life?"

"We can't start a relationship on that! You can't go to your lowest possible moment to justify this! You said love! How dare you!" I was mad. I was so mad. "You said love. You can't say things like that to me! You just can't use that word! You're killing me!"

His mouth was open. Then closed. He was gripping me, my arms with his big hands. I knew word-locked when I saw it, but this was more, this was process-locked. "Oh Bella," finally came out. I was alarmed at the sound of it. Now I was killing him! Or had I pushed him over? Would he kill himself? I didn't trust him. He was fragile in there. I didn't know where the line was with him. He scared me. That was it. It was him!

Jasper and Alice pulled into my driveway. Alice had her bird-dog posture. Even Jasper was curious. Alice rounded the truck and walked toward the road. All I could do was stand there in Edward's grip and look at her. Jasper stayed by his door. But Alice came charging forward. She came all the way up to me. Edward was still staring at me. Alice pulled me gently from his grip. He let go, but I felt the reluctance. The helplessness.

"Let me have her Edward." Alice said. "It'll be okay."

She had her arm around me, and she led me across the street. But we'd just gotten onto my lawn when the red rental pulled up and parked in the street. I turned to look at the car and realized Edward was following Alice and me. But I couldn't take that in before a woman was getting out of the car.

Blonde. Beautiful. Not Tanya. Not Vickie. Rose.

All of this longing sprang to life when I saw her. She pulled off her shades, took me in in a glance. She looked at Edward, then back to me, and she'd seen it all, everything. She knew I was a goner. She knew it was outrageous that he was too beautiful and here, in Forks, in Alice's old house of all places.

She knew me. Repressed librarian. Laura Ingalls. She barely keeps from laughing, but she grins. I'll make her pay for all of it because that's what best friends do, that is as soon as I can function.

"What are you doing, Bella?" she asks, taking it all in, Alice's protectiveness. "Shouldn't you be dragging Alice across the street?"

Alice laughed a little. "Tell me something good," Alice said.

Rose had been handling the aftermath of Alice's disaster. Alice had been waiting for Rose to call, but she seemed as surprised as I was that our friend was here in the flesh.

"You must be Edward," Rose says. "I'm Rosalie Hale."

Edward steps forward and shakes Rose's hand. "Pleased to meet you," he says. "Edward Cullen." He motions toward me with his elegant, musical, pilot's hand, but then he drops it into his pocket.

"Who died?" Rose to me.

"Don't start." Me, heading toward my house, Alice trying to lead me like a replacement for my walker.

"Sorry, bad joke," Rose said, chuckling. "Okay, who's trying to live, Bella? This better not be what I think it is."

"Shut it," I say weakly. Alice is pushing me now to get me inside because there's no controlling Rose.

Rose falls in line with Edward. "So, Edward, what up?"

"Not much." He says, but there's no humor.

"Is our girl being delicate?"

He doesn't answer.

We are in the house now. I have broken away from Alice, and am almost to my room when Edward pulls on my arm. "Bella, do you want me to go home? I don't want to, but I don't know what to do. I feel…protective of you. There're too many people. I know you want to be alone. But they're your friends. If you need them to do something else…what do you want me to do, Bella? You'll have to tell me. You'll always have to tell me…because I love you, and I don't want to be apart. But I don't know what to do, Baby."

His beautiful face, his eyes, he's upset, I know I need to say it back. I love you, too. And you don't need to do anything except be your wonderful self. But I can't get it out right now. He doesn't want to be apart from me? No wonder he tried to kill himself. He has no self-preservation. He's let me in, all the way in. He can't do that. He can't do that to me.

I'm not trying to be cruel, but I go in my room and close the door. Essentially, probably in his face. Then I lean my head against the door. I can hear him on the other side. I can feel him there. "Edward," I say through the wood.

"I'm right here."

"I…" I pound once. I'm word-locked.

"Bella, listen," he says, "I'm going to go home. But you know where I am."

"Go," my voice is evaporating. I clear my throat to get some volume. "Go buy your sod," I say, the thought of him leaving is relief and torment.

"I don't care about that. When you feel better…come to me. Or let me come to you. I want to know what this is. I want to know what is happening."

"Time…" I say on a choke, clearing my voice again, "need time."

I cracked the door. It was the strongest thing I could do. Opening the door was opposing myself. He came forward right away, pushing into the room, into me. I pressed my lips against his, and he shoved the door closed behind him, without moving his lips off of mine.

"Edward," I whispered, still managing to kiss and kiss. If we could just do this, just keep doing it for as long as it took to get me through the panic, maybe I…maybe we….

"Bella," he said, pulling me up against him until my pointed toes swept over his shoes. His arms were a band of strength around me, and he squeezed and kissed, and I had my arms locked around his neck, and I kissed him back with everything I had, with everything I didn't think I had. And my hands moved to his cheeks, and we crashed onto my bed, and we kissed a dozen single kisses before he locked on again and I held his head to me. We were good at this, we'd perfected it at Carlisle and Esme's house.

The next time we broke and went to single smacks I started to talk. "I'm scared. I'm scared. But I want you, Edward. I want you."

"Bella. Don't be scared of us. Don't be scared of this." Our frantic pace wasn't ebbing. He was on his back, and I was spread over him, and for minutes more we kissed.

Finally, he pushed my hair back and rolled to his side, easing me to face him. "Look at me for a moment, Love." Then he laughed a little. "You're going to have your rash again. I'm going to have to shave twice a day."

His finger gently brushed against the contours of my face.

"I've been alone a long time, Edward. I don't want to be hurt."

"Is that what this is? I won't hurt you, Bella." His lips spoke beautiful words, and did beautiful things. He kissed me twice more.

"But what if I hurt you?"

"The only way you can hurt me is to not try. It would hurt so much if you wouldn't even try." He kept smoothing my hair.

"I want to try. I hate being so weak. But…it's only been three weeks."

"Don't you know about us? I know. I've never felt this way before." His hand moved to my arm and rubbed from my shoulder to my elbow and back, over and over.

"How can you be so certain?" Me.

"What else are you afraid of?"

"Of things going bad."

"We love each other. This fear isn't about us. This is about other people, experiences you've had with them. I'm not them, Bella."

"I know. I'm a wreck. You're crazy to take me on."

"Do you not feel how it is with us?"

"Yes. But it's lust, right? We've both been alone. Maybe it's just lust."

He laughed at this.

"Am I wrong?" me.

His hand slipped under my arm, to rub the side of my breast to my hip and back up again. "You're so beautiful. It's a good part lust. That's not up for debate. Would you be happier if I wasn't attracted?"

"No," I had to admit, my voice a little shaky from all the rubbing.

He laughed at this, a soft low chuckle. "I have a solution for you, for us both."

"I'm all ears."

The sweetest slow kiss, on my lips, on each tender cheek, on the tip of my nose. He pulled back a bit, and I saw the love, mellow and sweet in his features. "Marry me."


	17. Chapter 17

Catwoman 17

"Edward, what are you doing here? What's the matter?" Esme is holding the door wide. After all of my efforts to be accountable and steady, there is fear in her eyes. She doesn't trust me. Bella didn't either.

I lean forward and kiss her cheek. She's always powdery and I taste that.

I know I look like hell. Her expression is a mirror for the truth. I haven't slept for twenty-four hours. I won't tell her. Not right away. Because I flew here. That will upset her enough when she finds out. Don't they realize I can run a car off the road as easily as I can nosedive in my plane?

"Carlisle around?" I follow her inside and close the door behind me. Her house always smells expensive, like it wears perfume. Bella's house, I love the way it smells, like whatever she's up to, like home. Sometimes, it's like a silky nest, and I like it there, and she held me there, and she held me hard, the way I like it, but not hard enough. Not long enough. I had to be so careful with her. If I squeezed her like I wanted to, it would hurt. So I was always thinking and trying not to get lost in her Bella nest. And I looked up the stairs and thought of the blue room. I didn't want to see it. It wouldn't help.

"Carlisle's at work until, maybe seven. You know how it is. Does he know you're coming? He didn't call me."

"He doesn't know. I didn't know until I was at the air-strip."

"You flew yourself?"

"Roger." I'm trying to be funny. But I don't want to laugh.

We have a stare off. "Are you going to keep being vague, Edward?"

"No."

"Did you bring cats?"

"No."

"Are…you in trouble?"

I do laugh now, but it's like pain.

"It's Bella," she whispers, hoping maybe I can't hear it.

I don't have to ring a bell for her. I follow her into the kitchen and drop onto a chair. She tries to work my hands out of my hair, but I take her hand instead, and she sits next to me.

"Talk to me." Her.

"Let's see…the traffic was good for this time of day. I got a text while I was driving, Aro wanting my decision on the Volturi donation. But you'd be proud of me, I didn't text back, didn't want to kill myself, or anyone else for that matter."

She slapped my head lightly.

"Isn't that what you're asking? Carlisle would get right to it."

"Then answer it."

Another stare off. "What if I say yes? I came here to do it so you could find the body."

"Fuck you, Edward."

I laughed, but she didn't join me. She got up and made coffee so she could keep her face turned from me.

"My Aunt Esme uses the F word?" I say.

"Not until now. I guess I've been saving it for some dumb remark like you just made."

She's moving around, running water, setting the machine to brew.

While the coffee is brewing I go and stand by her. "Hey, I'm sorry."

She opens the thick white cabinet door and takes two cups off the shelf and makes a production of filling them and pouring in the cream.

We end up back at the table. She wants the story and that is partly why I'm here. "I asked Bella to marry me."

Her cup is on its way to her mouth when she freezes and looks at me through the steam. "Wow. Fuck. Fuck-wow."

"Three times is a pattern."

We share a genuine laugh.

"That's quick, right?"

I shrug. "Bella thinks so."

"She's right. It's quick." She's set her coffee down without drinking any.

I really want a cigarette and wonder if the urge will ever go away.

"She said no. She said…get the hell out." Now I'm scrubbing my face, my hair. I feel like a good run would help, or a crazy howling cry, but I only remember crying when Mom died, and then not at the right time, but later, when I broke apart. And the crying wasn't good, no, it led to bigger things, like a break down. So the hell with crying.

She's holding my hand. I don't want to upset her. I've put her through enough, and I'm not even her son.

"Is that how you left her? Edward, is she okay?"

"She's got friends with her. They take good care of her. Even if she doesn't want it. They don't really know her like they think they do."

"What happened?"

"I told her I loved her, and the day after we got home she got scared about that. And I thought if I asked her to marry me she would see I wasn't going to run away." I looked at my aunt then, "That's what scared her. She thought I'd run."

"I don't know, Edward. It sounds like there was more. You said she thought it was too quick."

"That's why she didn't trust it. She didn't trust what was happening. She said it was too quick. But I told her I knew. And I do."

There was a big feeling building in my chest. It hurt to breathe. I hadn't touched the coffee. Esme suggested we sit on the deck, so we went out there, but all I could think about was Bella standing by the railing when she'd gotten sad over my music. I'd followed her out there. I already knew I loved her.

We sat in the lounge chairs and stared out at the yard. There was a breeze, and it made me feel a little better. I looked at my hands. They were shaky. When had I last eaten? At the diner. With Bella and the others. The others. When Bella had gotten upset after I'd proposed, Rose came. She's told me to leave. I didn't care what she said. But Bella wanted me to go. Jasper said, "Just go, man. Just give it some time."

So I did the hardest thing, I let go of her, and they closed ranks around her. So I spoke over them, just one thing. "Bella, I love you."

And I left. At first I waited, but I knew she wasn't coming.

"I flew here. I couldn't just sit around and stare at her house. And I couldn't go about my business like I didn't care. It's all I care about. Nothing else matters."

"But you can't get like that, Edward. That's you being hyper-focused. That's obsession. You can't let this stop your whole life. We were worried about Bella living so close. Carlisle said, 'If this ends badly…'"

"Yeah, I get it. If she wasn't across the street I wouldn't have met her. I'm not sorry, and I won't be."

"Okay." She put her hands up like 'surrender.'

"And I didn't stay and fixate. I left. I know she needs time. And space. I know that. I know her." My voice is too loud and too angry.

"I'm not arguing that point, but Edward…you may have pushed her too hard."

"I took a chance. Because she's stuck. She's stuck and she's drowning." I get up, snap onto my feet and go to the railing, standing where she stood just a couple of days ago. "She wants me. I know she does. I was trying to show her. I love her. I love Bella."

"I have to admit…I've never heard you say that before."

"You won't hear it again. Not about anybody else. Bella is the one I've been waiting for."

I know she didn't like me being so definite. She wouldn't understand and I deserved that. But I knew. Whether I could convey it to her or not didn't change the truth.

"You have to let her reach for you, regardless of what you think you know." She's beside me now, and she runs her hand through my hair, pulling it off of my forehead like I'm ten years old.

"I'll do whatever I have to. I'll wait. I'll step back. I'll do whatever I have to." Then I turn to look at her. "But I need the ring. Grandma's ring. Because the next time I ask her she'll say yes."

"You don't know that." Her hand is kind of poised there. She lowers it slowly.

"I do know. We've started something between us, we've let it out, woke it up. This is something that's never over."

"Edward…." She has no more to say. I understand, I do, but she closes her eyes. She'll wait for Carlisle now. He'll be the second wave coming over the hill. And I'll stand strong with nothing to lose that they can touch. There's just Bella.


	18. Chapter 18

Catwoman 18

Aro arrived at my house before I did. It was Carlisle's idea and I never really agreed, or disagreed, which Carlisle took as a yes. 'Every unmade decision is a decision,' he loved to say, so by not putting my foot down, I let the old guy show up.

He wasn't that old, he had informed me more than once.

When I pulled up, I checked Bella's house. There was plenty of activity. The red rental was gone, but the truck was there, and Jasper's El Camino. Boots was sunning himself in the rocker, and her sunhat was on the mailbox. The canvas garden tool purse-thing she toted around when she worked in the yard was slumped next to the door. I saw it all in three seconds.

Aro was standing on my driveway sneering at my front lawn. I wondered if he'd ever seen such an expanse of mud before. It's possible he'd only seen anything close in the top of a flowerpot in front of a shop. "It's called dirt," I told him, opening my trunk to get my overnight bag. My mind was already fixated on whether or not Bella was watching. Just knowing she was this near was making me sweat.

Maybe she was at work. She should be. But I felt her close. Not that I was psychic. Psychotic maybe. Desperate to see her.

It had been two days. I'd barely slept. I'd been living on caffeine. I hadn't had much since I'd tried to take things into my own hands. Now all bets were off. I could chew coffee beans, have them shoved down my throat like a perpetual necklace of stimulation, and I wouldn't be remotely tempted to do anything rash.

I just wanted Bella. As long as she was breathing, I was too.

Her door opened. It was a slight movement in my periphery, but my senses were riveted there. It was Jasper, crossing her yard, crossing the road, walking toward me in his singular speed. They'd cleaned him up some. He had some strange haircut.

I introduced him to Aro and Aro initiated a handshake. It was then I saw the paper. Jasper handed it to me. It was folded in fourths, but it was crinkled like it had been wadded into a ball and smoothed back out. Aro took my bag and went in the house. He was pristine about not sticking around for any kind of useless information.

I unfolded the thing, and right away noted the childish set-up. Questions and check boxes. I'd gotten something like this in the third grade.

"What is this?" me.

"Just give it a shot. They made it while they were drinking. Bella couldn't find it this morning. I had it. She fought me on bringing it over, but… There's something to it." He held out a pencil.

I looked at him for a moment. Was he kidding? Then I looked past him at the silent windows of her house. Were they disrespecting me, making this all a joke? He should know what it felt like, though now he looked like the stray they'd taken in to fuss over. I had the urge to shudder. I ignored the pencil so he sighed and held onto it while he folded his arms.

There were six questions. Number One: Do you like Bella? Then two check boxes: yes, or no.

What shit?

Number Two: Would you rather rub her: Three check boxes: elbow, boobs, pee-pee.

I looked sharply at him.

Three: Will you take back the M word? Two boxes: yes or no.

Four (a): Will you give Bella another chance? Two boxes: yes or no.

Four (b): How many chances do you have in you to give Bella? Three boxes: no more, two more, seventy times seven.

Five: Will you agree to date Bella for three months without mentioning the m-word, or any of its derivatives such as, wedding, jumping the broom, walking the aisle, etc.? Two boxes: yes or no.

Six: Will you come over for dinner Thursday night? Two boxes: yes or no.

He had the pencil back out. I snatched it from his hand and turned my back.

Using the hood of my car I quickly checked the boxes, saving number two for last. I drew a line through all three boxes. That ought to give them something to think about.

I folded the paper into eighths, made the creases sharp and handed it back to him. I put his pencil behind my ear and folded my arms. He nodded and went back across the street.

I didn't move, leaning against my car, staring at the mud. Aro came out and asked me if I was alright.

"Meditating," I said, and he went back inside.

Boots came over, rubbed his hairy back on my pant legs then took off after a bird that was trying to pull something out of the mud. I thought of Bella's speech about the middle class struggles.

Then I heard her slam closed. A few seconds and she was in front of me, beauty and shiny, smooth, white, dark, cloth, flowy, sweet smelling, then on me. My arms had opened and they were around her now, and my face was buried in her hair, and hers was buried in my chest. And I could feel myself melting into her, so alive. So damn alive.


	19. Chapter 19

Catwoman 19

"So, Baby, we have to talk," I say into her hair. She feels so good to me. I didn't know when I'd be able to hold her again and even though I had to eat cat shit to get the opportunity, I did what I had to.

"I know," she says. "I know, Edward. I'm sorry about everything." She pulls back and looks up at me, "It's like…I'm telling you I'm afraid to fly…"

"You were afraid to fly?"

"No, no, this is a metaphor. It's like I was saying I'm afraid to fly, and you said we were going to fly, AND jump out of the plane. See?" She looks hopeful that this weak-ass story will make things better.

I don't say anything, so she says, "You went away."

"I waited for you, Bella. The troopers had you sealed in their force-field."

"They were protecting you, too."

"I…doubt it."

"No, they were. They threw their bodies onto the grenade, that is me. And all of Forks was spared."

"I'm not quite ready to laugh about this, Bella. Not even close."

But I was tempted to smirk over the ring box sandwiched between her hip-bone and mine.

"I'm not laughing. I'm not. I was really freaking out. I heard you say you loved me. I wanted to respond, to run to you. It's irrational, but…Alice and Rose have helped me…a lot. I've obviously got some real problems…fears. But I want to work on myself. I don't want to lose you. Have I?"

"I'd say, 'I'm here,' again, but I live here so…it loses something."

We were getting ready to kiss. And if we did, we'd never talk. I wanted some assurance that she wasn't going to put us through another ordeal. "Bella, in hindsight, I shouldn't have brought up the term I'm not allowed to mention."

She scrunched her face. "That was kind of a derivative, but go ahead."

"It was too soon. I just wanted you to understand that I'm serious about us. I thought it would comfort you to know how far I'm willing to go."

"Derivative," she whispered. Then she giggled a little, and though I loved the sound, I didn't love it completely.

"I thought," I repeated like she was an errant child, "I was helping matters when I proposed. I was…wrong. So I don't take it back because I can't. I just admit the timing was…not unusual for me. But I'm not unreasonable. You can talk to me. But hiding from me in a circle of your friends is…well it's childish. And it makes me feel like shit. I need the talk. I NEED it."

She straightened from me. We weren't touching anywhere now. She had the checklist in her hand, but she was making a fist and I was worried she'd rip it to shreds. I thought I might like to have it. I knew I did. So I tried not to be distracted by it.

"I find the word 'childish' a bit of an attack on my character. You're saying I'm childish."

I think she stomped her foot.

So, I'd said the wrong things again. If she went running across the street to her Red Rover buddies, that would be a very bad sign. I wanted to apologize, but I knew I couldn't spend the rest of my life taking back every honest thing I said. I did tend to blurt, I did tend to get things wrong. I needed her help as much as she needed mine, and I needed her and her friends to never bust my balls again.

"Look, I know you needed space, but I needed you to tell me that and not put all those people between us like I'd just tried to hurt you." Me.

"I want to run right now," she said, and she was red in the face and pissed.

"I know you do. So how are we going to do this if you keep running away?"

"I'm trying here, Edward. I'm not actually running, am I?"

"I hope not," I said, "but I'm a little gun-shy."

"Oh, you're gun-shy? No. There's nothing shy about you. I can't relax when you keep saying things…."

"I'm being honest. That's all I've ever been with you."

"Honest and outrageous are kind of twin brothers where you're concerned," she gasped on that one, but she tried to pretend that she was glad she said it.

"Sorry if I love you more than you're ready for. I'm trying to pull back. I'll work on it. But I don't know how to not speak my mind. I don't want a repeat of these past two days. I couldn't see you or speak to you, or touch you. I was punished!"

"It wasn't punishment, Edward! It was my fear…it was everything we just said, oh crap now we're in a circle." She was bent over a little, holding her stomach.

"Come 'ere." I took a step toward her and pulled her into my arms, working the paper out of her hand so I could take care of that distraction. I wondered if her posse was gawking from her windows. I resisted flipping them the bird.

"What are you doing?" she asked watching me shake out the paper with the hand that wasn't holding her. "Help me," I said, and we worked to fold it together. Then I took it from her.

I was saving this treaty for our children. I shoved it in my pocket next to the ring.

"Rose wrote the one about the pee-pee," she said.

I was a little disappointed.

But I touched her cheek. She was relaxing a little. "If we're going to do this…I need you to give me more chances." Me.

"You checked the box that said I only had two more. I was hoping you'd go for the seventy times seven," she said.

"That's the thing, Bella. You'll always have those next two chances because you'll never need them. I'm not holding anything against you. But I'll have to be able to talk to you. If I can't…."

"Where did you go?"

"To Esme and Carlisle."

"Did you tell them what happened?"

"Yes. Esme told me it was too fast."

"Do they think I'm awful?"

"Esme used the F-word. At me. Believe me, they think I got the better deal."

She was moving her finger over the button on my pocket, twinging my nipple whether she realized it or not. I tried not to squeeze the life out of her.

"Edward…I was worried I'd pushed you…afraid you might do something…."

I put my hand over hers so I could think. I said I wanted to talk, but man…"I wasn't even tempted that way. I'm not suicidal, Bella. You can't let that make you afraid to talk to me. Not talking is worse. And even then, I'm not suicidal."

"I see that. Okay. We'll need to give one another lots of chances then. I hope I can be as forgiving as you seem to be. I don't know. But you didn't do anything wrong. Except call me childish. That pisses me off." She looked at me, those eyes, brown and deep.

So I went to speak to Ben that evening. We met at the diner. I knew how much he liked it there. He took a couple of minutes debating over the brown or white gravy, and what kind of vegetable. I ordered with one word. Coffee.

"I wanted to update," I told Ben, working my area over with a napkin. "I'm trying to take it slow with Bella. We kind of flumed out of the gate. Well, I did. But I'm not allowed to mention marriage for three months."

"I see. Are you blaming me?"

"No. I'm not blaming anyone. But you are the only one besides myself who seems to not have an aversion to the idea."

"Hmmm. So what do you mean by flumed?" he asked, peering at me, then whipping off his glasses and holding them up to the poor light. He pulled several napkins from the greasy dispenser and started to wipe one lens, then the other, holding them to the light and rewiping. I heard him mutter Riley's name.

"I mean…I rushed. Maybe exploded."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Was exploded too sexual?" Me.

"Are you honoring what I asked of you at our last meeting?"

"I'm trying."

"Trying?"

The young waitress brought us our silverware wrapped in a napkin. I didn't need silverware for coffee, but she brought it anyway. When she left, Ben told me to unwrap my fork and knife. I grabbed the corner of the napkin and quickly flipped the silverware free. It clattered to the table.

"Try to pick up that fork."

I picked it up.

He slapped my hand. What the heck.

"Put it down." Him.

I did, but I had a 'wax on,' 'wax off,' feeling.

"Try to pick it up."

I picked it up again. "What?" I asked him as he showed his disgust.

"You're picking it up! I only said to try!"

"Okay. I see. I think. Or I have no idea." But I wanted it to be over.

"Trying is nothing. Just do it. Respect this woman. Do not cross that line we talked about. You need to be sacrificial toward her. If you can't do it, you're not the right person. Find the strength. Pray."

Our waitress was back with his plate of brown food. "Get me?" he asked me covertly.

I took a sip of my black, bitter coffee. "Yes."

"And let me know when you guys are ready for premarital." He took the biggest bite of mashed potatoes slathered in gelatinous gravy.

"There's something else," I said, rewrapping my silverware. "I have a friend…kind of grew up with her. Well you met her…Vickie."

"Oh yes. Dates Emmet McCarty."

"No. She just met him at Bella's house the night you were there."

"And they've been dating. I talk to Emmett all the time. I've seen them here, actually. She comes out a few times a week." He's sawing through some brown meat.

I'm confused for a minute. She texts me almost every day. She hasn't mentioned this. I don't know if it's a good thing. I'm pretty sure it isn't. I meant to speak with Emmett, but I really thought I had time.

"McCarty's quite a catch," Ben says, stabbing some beans. "He bought that shop from his father so the elder McCarty could retire. That was the issue between him and Rose, but Bella probably told you all about it."

"Not really."

"Emmett really never had a choice. His father was depending on him. And Emmett knows that business. He planned to buy it as an investment and let someone else run it while he followed Rose to the city. But Rose didn't want him to do it. And that's where they fell out. It was a huge scandal round these parts. Emmett McCarty is the favored son of this town. He dominated in every sport. And Rose…understand there is no more beautiful woman on this earth for me than my dear Angela, but Rose is our town's beauty."

I could argue that point, but I figured Bella wouldn't have appreciated me doing so.

"Yes, those two dated exclusively for years. No one could believe when they broke off. But after Alice and Jasper, we were primed for it. The difference there is, most people were waiting for Alice to shed Jasper. They never did think he was good enough for her. But that's where they're wrong. Don't underestimate Jasper Whitlock. He's smarter than a fifth grader, that's for sure. Problem is, he's no good without Alice. When she broke with him, it broke him."

I knew I was hearing things I shouldn't. But I was low enough and curious enough to hear more. "What about Jacob Black?" I was working up to Bella.

"Jacob Black, our sheriff?"

As if there could be another. I nodded.

"Had it hard growing up. The promotion has gone to his head a bit, but he's a good man…potentially. He and Bella go way back, you know. Their dads were friends, those two. But Mike Newton…guess Bella told you about him."

I didn't say one way or another. She'd told me a little, but seemed well over him. I suspected he'd been her first sexual experience. And perhaps her only one.

"I just wanted to touch base. I wanted you to know I love Bella very much."

"You seem like a good man, Edward. So if you love her, remember what love is…patient, kind, not self-seeking, protective, keeps no record of wrongs. It's a big list. But you'll get there, with Divine help."

It was funny that my phone chimed like on cue. It was Vickie. It read, Need U at home. Rose and Em. Not good.

I cleared my throat. I thought about telling Ben about the text, but decided to spare him the throw-down that was brewing in my neighborhood. My guess was that Vickie was coming to see Aro. This was probably the night she was going to reveal her relationship with Emmett. If Rose was in the picture, she had to be back at Bella's.

I tried not to speed home. When I pulled up, it looked like the citizens had cleared the streets in lieu of a pending gunfight. I got out of my car and looked around, expecting to see Vickie crouching in the bushes somewhere. Rose's rental was parked in front of Bella's, but not a creature was stirring, not even a cat.

Instead, Vickie was waiting in my living room on my couch. Emmett was sitting beside her, sickeningly flushed and quiet. He didn't make eye contact. He looked like he'd been flogged.

I went over to him and addressed him. He didn't answer me, but looked at me briefly, then away. To see his usual smart-ass humor not only quelled, but vanished had an evil portent to it.

"You okay?" Me.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Him.

"I don't know. You tell me." Me.

He looked away again.

Aro came in the room then, drying his hands on a towel. He wore a light yellow golf shirt and tan pants. "You're home. Our guest is upset," he said.

"I'm fine," Emmett huffed. "Just got caught off-guard is all."

"By Rose," I filled in. "I saw the car."

"Yeah," he said brokenly.

"Well," Vickie huffed, "can you give me a lift to Emmett's?" She meant me.

"I'll take you," Emmett said like his brain had been wiped.

"You can stay here, Buddy. I'll take her," I said, kind of eager to be alone with Vickie so I could get the lay of the land.

"I said I'll take her." He stood up, dug in his pocket for his keys.

"Sure you're okay to drive?" I checked. I wasn't too keen on Vickie riding with him.

"We'll be fine," Vickie said, patting my arm. "She called me a bitch," she said low, "Blondie over there. I got out of the car with Emmett and she'd pulled up at the same time. She gets out of the car and throws her purse at me and says, you bitch. I thought she was going to come over here, but he got ahold of her, and she broke down like a maniac. He took her into the house and came over here. He's been sitting on the couch like a robot ever since."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, but maybe they're not finished. Let him go home and I'll drive you."

"No. He can drive me. He and I need to talk." She went out where he waited in the car. I watched from my porch. When they pulled away I looked across the street for a few minutes. I could only imagine what was going on over there. Another complication.


	20. Chapter 20

Catwoman 20

Rose laid on my bed, her back to the door. I'd never seen her limp before. Even still she was a long flowing line of curves. And she still wore her shoes.

Alice sat on my chair. She had it pulled up to the bed. She was petting Rose's arm. She looked from Rose to me, like this was Rose's deathbed, and I should walk carefully as I came to pay my respects.

I held a glass of water and two Tylenol. I was frustrated, but honestly? Much as I hurt for Rose, I hurt for myself not being able to see Edward. I didn't want this drama. Rose had broke it off with Emmett. What did she expect? The nearest monastery was two hundred miles north. And Emmett hadn't enrolled.

"Just put it on the nightstand," Alice told me like I was a Candy Striper.

"Is she sleeping?" I asked.

"No," Rose said, not turning to look at me.

"He drove away," I said like, Emmett was he who must not be named.

"You mean, 'they,'" Rose said with some of the old attitude.

"Should he make her walk home, Rose?" Me.

Alice's eyes snapped to me. Rose did turn now, a scene right out of the Exorcist. She sat up, her eyes fire. "Don't you dare take that whore's side, Bella Swan. Not after all the ass-wiping we've had to do for you lately."

Alice's head dropped.

I walked to the nightstand and slammed down the water, sloshing it all over my clock radio, well Charlie's radio, so much worse.

"Take these. Bitch." It's like I couldn't stop. I kept thinking of Edward saying I punished him. Now Rose was out to punish. I pictured Vickie walking home in her whore-shoes. Would that solve anything, or make any of the three of us, yes I was throwing Alice in for good measure, less childish? Childish. Damn that hurt.

"You're so childish," I said to Rose, making her face go scarlet. "You too, Alice."

Man they looked formidable. The three of us, we were such a bitch-force. I had never been on this side of it. And I'd lived in the middle of it, sucking my thumb. So safe and smug and under-developed.

"Go home. Just go home. Both of you. Stop ruining us." I didn't even know what I was trying to say anymore.

Rose arose. It was resurrection power. I had to work to hold my ground. "You and me are finished, Swan. I have dragged your ass through this life for my final five minutes. All through college…and all the years since, what is Bella doing? Is Bella lonely? Is Bella happy? Did we make Bella feel included? Did we make Bella feel loved? No, no, we don't mind. The FIVE of us forever! Yeah, Bella!" She was possessed. Spit had flown.

"Oh good…shit," Alice whined holding her own neck in a choke-hold.

I was spluttering. "Do you know how tired I am of your hateful, sour, superior…big nasty tits and your big fat…ass?"

"Oh you…" she lunged for me. I envisioned myself side-stepping, neatly, and her lunging through the air and landing on the floor on her stomach with a thud.

And that's exactly what happened, except I jostled the nightstand really hard and things fell off. Rose couldn't breathe. She'd knocked the air from her lungs. She was gasping, and Alice knelt beside her screaming for an ambulance.

"She'll be fine," I said, but it was desperate, like I was willing her to be fine. And like a miracle, she sucked in a big draught of air. Once she did I left the room, trying to hold my beating heart in my chest.

I wanted to run over to Edward's. My phone beeped then. He was texting. He'd been doing that since he'd gotten home and met Emmett and Vickie. I couldn't imagine what things had been like on his end.

I put my phone back on the counter. I didn't know what to say to him. I was such a runner. For the rest of my life I could just keep running across the road, to Edward when my friends hurt me, to my friends when Edward hurt me. I was a dysfunctional child.

Alice and Rose came out of my bedroom clutching one another, just like Alice and I had held onto one another when she'd drug me home from Edward's driveway. They looked like they'd run through a gauntlet, and they had, but it wasn't an Indian nation, it was me.

I felt so guilty. I crossed my arms. It was all out there now. The worms had exploded out of the box.

It was a summit comprised of three hours of screaming, crying, throw pillow throwing, cursing, accusing, defending, reaccusing, redefending, admitting, apologizing, over-apologizing, hugging, crying, self-hatred, self-defense, self-centered, selfishness. But finally we were getting somewhere.

We had started to talk when I'd gone up to visit them, but we weren't ready. We hadn't suffered enough. Finally we were ready to look at the truth. Alice was talking, and now we'd introduced alcohol.

"I never really thought we'd stay broken up. I was really just trying to shock Jasper into becoming someone else. How ridiculous is that? How arrogant? It's the exact opposite of love. And I do love him. I always have. That never went away."

Rose and I agreed. We were two gypsy sages now, saying things like, "Ahhh, yes. Childish." Childish was our new word, our new revelation.

We could only use the word on Alice because we had both already established how childish we also were.

Rose: "When I saw her filthy red claws on him…he's mine. He's always been mine. I know that." Glug, glug with the Jack and Coke, "And I knew it, and that smirk, that bitch…"

"Yessssss," I hiss, Esmerelda-like, and also eager to repent of my disloyalty from earlier parts of our diatribe where I'd actually taken Vickie's side just to let Rose feel what Em was probably feeling all of this time.

"He had to drag me away…I was going to choke her, or hit her…"

"You threw the Prada bag," Alice said.

"Oh, where is it?"

"Em got it out of the gutter."

"See, he's so good. He's the best ever. No one else would go to the gutter for me."

We all drank to that.

So after Alice and Rose were passed out, I was stuck in a different state of twilight. I was too revved to sleep. I realized I'd been biding my time for hours, so I could get back to Edward. I had an alcohol-induced inspiration. I'd just go over there. Much as I'd been worried about Edward living right across the street, I'd just make lemonade out of those lemons, and use his close proximity to my advantage.

This was great. I'd been drinking…but I wasn't driving! And that was the important thing.

So I picked up Boots and went on over there. I was barefooted, I realized, but that was okay. It wasn't far.

But his lawn was softer than I realized because it always rained in Forks. So I had mud boots on by the time I made it to his porch. My cat bolted to the ground and went off. I called her, but she disappeared. Then I spied the hose and cranked it on and washed my feet, picking up one, falling a bit, putting my hand on his house, and spraying the raised foot. I heard a knock on the nearest big window, and I was laughing as I shot the figure in the window with the hose, making him leap in surprise, but he had white hair and it wasn't Edward.

I was trying to figure this out, but I'd been holding the hose pointed straight down, making a little pond around my foot.

So I put the tired foot down in the cold, and I pulled up the other foot and there was a sucking sound, then put it down and pulled up the other, and another sucking sound, but this was hopeless. I was standing in quicksand. So I turned off the hose, and about that time the porch light came on, like a prison yard light or something.

"Bella?" he asked, looking all sleepy and so sexy without his shirt.

"Edward, you are the sexiest man on this earth! Maybe in the whole dang universe. Hey, hey, let's be beatniks. Hey baby, give me some skin, oh yeah!" Man was I funny. But I was kind of sinking here.

He was smiling, but taking it all in with a furrowed brow.

"I…" I wanted to explain the mud, but it was really hard to pull my foot up, and when I did, man, embarrassing! My foot was a block of mud.

"Stay there," he said rolling up the pant legs on his jammies.

The jammies were kind of low, and when he bent over I saw… "Crack attack," I sang out, making myself bend over I was laughing that hard.

He shot upright and hiked his pants a bit. Not Humphrey Bogart high, but a little higher than sagging.

"Oh my Bella," he sighed, making his way to me with the handsomest feet.

"Even your feet are pretty," I marveled.

He had to laugh now, especially when his foot went in to the ankle. He was close now.

"Kiss me," I said, my arms open.

He took a big step toward me, and pulled the other foot out until he was in my mud puddle with me. We kissed, and it felt so good, better than a plane ride. "Oh Edward, you melt my guts."

We laughed against each others lips. But we recovered nicely.

"You are drunk," he said, kissing me again.

"Take advantage," I said, then more kissing. I worked a foot free and wrapped my leg around him.

He broke the kiss off and picked me up bridal style. I smiled at my mental-derivative.

He stumbled his way to the porch, went back for the hose, came back to the porch, reached in the door and snapped the light. He pulled the lever and sprayed my feet with water. He let the water travel up my bare legs, wetting the hem of my skirt. He cranked the nozzle, and a light spray came out which he ran over the words on my Angry Bunny T-shirt – Your anger makes me happy.

"That's cold," I scream-giggled like a drunk bitch.

"Here, give me this." I pulled the hose from his grip and he relented, laughing. I kept cranking the nozzle, ending on a pulsing jet, while he kicked off his muddy pants leaving him in gray boxers.

"Ei-yi-yi," I said looking him over. "You are one splendid specimen of manhood," I said. Then I shot him with the water, right on the privates. He yelled, and put his hands over himself, then turned, and I went for the butt, and the butt-hole because I was so trashed and trashy.

He was yelping and laughing. He wrestled the hose away from me and cranked it to shower and pinned me against the wall of his house and held it over my head.

I was gasping and laughing, my hair plastering over my eyes. "You're drowning me," I yelled wondering when Jacob Black was going to show up. Surely the neighbors could hear us. Edward was just as wet as I was. We were laughing and howling like wolves, but all of a sudden, he threw down the hose, the water sputtering against the cement, against the bottom of our legs, and he kissed me like a lunatic, which was the way wolves who'd been howling should kiss, and our arms were around one another, and he pushed me against the bricks, and I bowed my body into his, and his tongue, just his tongue, and he said, "Give me yours," and I did. And he'd go wild and kiss my neck, and back to my mouth. And our breathing was hard, our kissing was hard, he was so hard, pushing into me.

And I couldn't guess why all of this water was in our faces, cold. Were we drowning?

"Bella Swan!" Rose yelled.

We pulled back, breathing, breathing.

Porch light on. White haired guy in the doorway.

"I know we just talked about all of this," she said, looking flowsy and sick. "But think, Bella. I know you. Do you really want it in front of this house, on the porch, with your guy's butt toward the road for all the world to see? If this is what you really want, I'll go back and have at it. But I know you."

I nodded. Edward and I eased apart. The white haired guy pushed the glass storm door open, silently beckoning Edward inside.

We parted then. "Edward…I'm…"

He kissed me gently. He picked up his muddy pants. The white haired guy was looking at the pants, his lips pursed.

Rose was already crossing the road.

"I'll just…" I pointed at Rose and bobbed my head. I went back into the mud and started to work my way across.

"Bella," Edward called, "you're gonna have a rash."

I smiled.


	21. Chapter 21

Catwoman 21

I met Bella the next day at the library. We walked across the small campus to eat at the café located there. She was wearing sunglasses, and her skin was very pale. Only a pink tinge noting my attack from the early morning hours remained on her smooth cheeks.

"I'll be so embarrassed to officially meet Aro," she said.

"He'll recover. He's surprisingly merciful for a member of the aristocracy." I pulled on the end of her hair.

She groaned. "If Rose hadn't come to my rescue…I signed a lifestyle statement when I took this position, Edward." The 'position' she referred to was head librarian at Forks' small Christian college.

"And like good little college students they were all in bed at two in the morning. So your lewd behavior is our secret." I put my arm around her trim waist and pulled her into my side. She smelled good, like some kind of fruit.

She pushed away from me. "Don't grope around on me in front of the students. And I wasn't being lewd by myself, mister."

"I know, babio." I kissed her ear.

She covered her face and groaned again. "Do not remind me."

"I've got three words, Maynard G. Krebs."

She had to laugh. "Oh seriously, shut-up."

"Just you, me and some bongos, Baby. And that wet little outfit…or not."

"Shut. It."

We were standing face to face, really close, my arms around her.

"My own little wet T-shirt contestant…"

"Because of your sexual harassment with the hose…and let's not forget the strip-tease on your porch. All the world is a stage…"

"Yeah, let's not forget that. My private little show for you…guess I forgot to sign the life-style statement."

"Oh," she cleared her throat, looking over my shoulder, "good morning President Smith."

A grim bespectacled man rushed past, nodding to Bella. "Miss Swan," he said.

"You call him President?" I am amused.

"That or boss," she said, head tilted to the side. "And when you do your adjunct work, he'll be yours." She was doing a little glare at me. I could easily see her soft eyes behind the glasses. Her beauty took my breath away. Her hair was in a pony tail but there were loose strands blowing around her sweet face. And the way she felt in my arms, firing every nerve ending, but relaxing me all at the same time.

"Aro would love this place," I muttered, bringing her around by running my finger over her cheek. I was insane for her attention and favor.

"I'm relieved to know Aro isn't your grandfather or something." We were only pretending to speak about Aro.

"Or something? Like a zombie, or a shape-shifter?" I gave her my most charming grin, wanting to be as close as possible in the middle of a busy quadrangle.

"I mean, or an old uncle or something. And stop trying to dazzle me. Gosh, it's just wrong. You have to be genetically engineered. You're out of a GQ laboratory."

"Sexiest man in the universe." I reminded her of her comment from this morning.

She groaned and tried to tuck her chin, but I wouldn't let her. I laughed and pulled her in tighter and whispered, "Splendid specimen of manhood?"

"Shhh," she said, our foreheads touching. "You realize that's all cliché. Drunk cliché."

"You know what I realize, Miss Bella? God didn't get it more right for Adam, for Romeo, for Robert Browning, or for Jay Z. You. Are. It." We kissed, and it was like take-off. "How's that for cliché? Now do it back."

She pulled back the littlest bit. "You know you're scaring me. And…I like it."

"You're a strange girl."

"Okay…a hung over girl…but you are my Brad…"

"Not him."

"Shush. My Prince William, my Mr. Darcy, my Poindexter."

"Who is Poindexter?"

"Did you never play the Barbie game? I always got Poindexter."

"Huh. Is that a good thing?"

She kissed me again. "It's a great thing. At first, I didn't want him. But since I always got him, I learned to really appreciate him. See? Poindexter is great."

"Sounds cryptic. Fishy."

"We need to get lunch. You need some ice water." She was giggling against my shoulder now. Passing students looked at us, smiled and whispered. One guy gave me a thumbs up.

So over sandwiches, her turkey, me roast beef, we continued to talk. Time evaporated with her. "Aro and I will be working for a couple of days on selecting various charities to propose funding for." I had trapped one of her little feet between mine.

"Edward, you are a constant revelation. You blow me away. But Aro, he kind of reminds me of Mr. Belvedere," she said poking a chip in her mouth. "I can't believe I shot the glass right in front of his face. He kind of lost it for a minute. I'm a hose-beast. He must find Forks, crazy me, crazy Rose…very rural."

"You're good. He's been to a lot of remote places that aren't exactly sophisticated."

"Great consolation there." She slurped her green tea. She hooked her free foot around my calf.

"When I got out of the hospital…even while I was still in, I made the decision to ask Aro to step in as CEO. I could hardly ask people to trust someone to make fair and honest decisions about where to donate their money if I couldn't be trusted to give them one hundred percent."

"Edward," she said, wanting to console me. It felt wonderful, her readiness to comfort me, but I couldn't use her that way when I was so undeserving. I ran the backs of my fingers along her cheek.

"Bella, it was the right decision. Trust has to be rebuilt. This was the tougher road. Carlisle wanted to step in for me, cite a temporary absence, as if I'd been ill. But I wanted to be upfront about it. We didn't broadcast that I'd tried to kill myself, but we did say I stepped down due to stress. Still, the truth did leak into the corporate world, and traveled through critically important circles. And that's what I feared all along, not for myself, but for the sake of the organization. Philanthropy became my mother's life-work. She started our organization. Her family money was the seed capital. Not only are we a philanthropical association, but we're an umbrella effort that other charities come under for guidance on where to put their funds. I couldn't take the risk that my screw up would damage our mission."

She nodded and we started to gather up our trash.

Too soon I was walking her back to her desk.

"I don't think it's just about how we mess-up. There's always consequences, but it's how we seek to repair things that shows what we've learned and how we're striving to change," she said, dumping her big purse on her messy desk and taking off her glasses. "I mean…I think that's happening for you certainly. I think Alice is there with Jasper. She's tender with him again, you know? We talked last night, before I went crazy. We said some really bad things, and some really good things. But I have hope for them."

I raised our joined hands and kissed her knuckles.

"I love that. Knuckle kisses. It's on my list of reasons why I love you." Her.

I raised my sunglasses and stuck them in my hair.

"You know I love you, right?" Her.

I grinned.

"What is this look for?"

"Marry me." I moved in and put my arms around her again. I reminded myself not to squeeze. Her body against mine, Utopia. I wasn't going to make it. Her surprise visit in the wee hours that morning had rendered me blind to my supposed commitment to treat her like the treasure she was. Hosing her down so I could stare unabashedly at her nipples and then attack her and grind on her like she was a blow-up doll was hardly the behavior Ben was trying to hold me to. And all of my antics in response to her antics, frenzied though they'd been, were actually restrained in comparison to what I wanted to do. That's why they'd only revealed themselves in all their stark outrageousness in hindsight. I'd been way, way out of line, and I'd been more inebriated than her, I'd been lust-drunk, Bella-drunk. The only thing that had pulled me to my senses was Aro's presence. Rose and the cold water in the face hadn't really phased me. But Aro represented other, greater failures, and my vast need for restraint and reform. Responsibility too. All three of the R's.

"Edward you promised!" She swatted my shoulder, but it had no power.

"It's not good for a man to be alone. I've been alone for way too long. I don't want to waste another day. Don't make me wait."

"For what? For me, or for sex, Edward?" She looked around and lowered her voice, "We can have sex without getting married."

I gave her a shake and a growl. I hoped they were in sync. "Let me tell you something, Bella…there's no difference. You're sex. There's no sex apart from you. I want sex. I want you. I want marriage. I want it all. It's all or nothing."

"You're like, a Puritan."

"Am I Bella? Am I a Puritan?"

"No," she pouted. I loved her lips. I wanted to kiss her brains out.

"You said you'd give me three months."

"I'll give you forever."

"Oh my gosh. You're so serious. You mean it."

"Did you think I didn't mean it?"

"No. I knew you meant it. I just…it is better than three months. You're offering something so much…more."

"Yeah."

"This is going to sound ridiculous."

"Go on," I said warily.

"If I agreed, how would I tell Rose, for example. Or Alice. Jasper. They're still fragile. Or Emmett? How would I tell the closest people I have to a family that…I'm getting married when they're all so…."

"Look Bella…I don't want to be the crazed, possessive fiancé that tries to break up his girl and her friends."

"Groomzilla," she volunteered.

"Yeah, something like that. So you gotta do this. We have to put one another first. The way I'm doing that is telling you…I'm not going to have sex with you outside of committing my life to you. That's how I'm putting you first. I'm going to put you over myself and everyone else."

"Starting today? Or what's the plan?"

"I've been trying," I said.

"Go on."

"You have to figure out what putting me first is in regards to your friends. If they're the reason we can't marry…."

"That sucks. When you say it like that…I'm horrible. I don't deserve you."

"We deserve each other. But we have to work at it. I want to be worthy of your love. I messed up last night, but I'm not sorry. But I can't have a repeat, much as I don't want to discourage your adventurous side because last night will definitely go down in the record book of my favorite moments. But I can't let go of self-control. I really want to wait until it's right. I want to take the vows. Then we'll live in our commitment. It'll be unbelievable. I'll love you everyday…I'll just love you."

"Edward," she pressed her lips to mine. When she pulled back her eyes were shiny with love. I felt it pull me into her heart. I felt so full of…joy. Nothing I'd known compared to this. There had been moments in my faith, and a deep settling in me from that, but this was like icing, dripping into all of my lonely places.

"I will marry you, Edward Cullen. I always knew I would. I always knew I could never let you go. Never. If I had to crawl on my hands and knees to get to you, I'd do it. Nothing will keep me away from you, not fear, or friends, or old men…with white hair…nothing." We kissed carefully, but it was sweet and mind-numbing to feel her welcoming lips on mine.

"I am trying not to crush you," I whispered in her perfect ear, "in front of that old lady over there…"

"Mrs. Cope," she whispered.

"…and that young guy over there."

"Seth. Tonight, after you come over for dinner, I am going to squeeze the ever-loving guts out of you," she whispered back.

Oh, my Bella.

I left her at her desk. We were both a little dazed. I wanted to skip to my car, but that would be wrong. Inside though, I was skipping, outside jogging. I jumped over a rail in the parking lot. I could have leapt a tall building in a single bound. Or maybe not. But damn it I felt great.

I knew Aro was waiting, and that Tanya was coming in from headquarters in Chicago. But I wasn't expecting Vickie to be at the house. I admit some of my joy leaked away at the sight of her car. I knew Rose was still in town. Her car was gone, but she was still around.

I started to whistle. I could do this until someone usually told me to stop. When I was deep in thought, whistling helped me breathe.

Vickie and Aro were waiting in my dining room. Aro had lots of paperwork spread out on the table. Tanya had just pulled in the driveway and now she was coming in. I held the door for her.

"Hey," I said. "Have a good trip?"

"I did," she said, her expensive heels clicking, her expensive perfume evident as her blue gaze passed me to enter the house.

"Still no grass," she said in her low, elegant voice.

"Yeah," I said. She was dressed to kill, as always. It's just my house, but to look at her in a one piece camel colored dress, you'd never know it. She looked like we were still in the high-rise in Chicago. She was, but I wasn't, and this was Forks. I liked Bella's long skirt she'd worn today, the little white blouse. I liked Bella. Oh damn, I was engaged. I was engaged. And I could see Bella's tracks in the mud, the place around the hose, dried mud on the porch. All of my life I'd heard, "Edward stop. Edward no. Edward. Edward." It's why I'd loved football. I wasn't afraid of being hit. It was a discipline, but I could be outrageous, in a controlled way. And I hadn't played, just cut loose and played for a very long time until last night. And she hadn't run away, she had instigated. I knew she'd been drinking, but she was playful. She was fun.

"Edward." As if to prove my point, Aro's cultured voice called me back to reality.

And Vickie. She stood there, some dark drink in her hand. Her dress was strapless, two rows of ruffles around the boob area, like she needed that, and a form fitting short skirt. It was baby blue with big peachy flowers all over and high-heeled peachy shoes. Red hair wild and curled like a hundred candy canes. She was a pretty girl, who didn't know the meaning of subtle.

Aro and Tanya kissed. Tanya put a packed briefcase on the table and asked Vickie for, "one of those," nodding toward her drink. Vickie went to comply.

"What brings you here?" I asked Vickie.

"You said we need to talk."

"Excuse us," I told Tanya and Aro. Vickie and I went into the downstairs level of the house. Most of the bottom floor was a sprawling family room. She sat on a loveseat and patted the spot next to her. I sat across from her in an overstuffed chair.

"Emmett and I are on a break."

"What does that mean?"

"According to him it means he won't call me for a couple of weeks in case Rose wants him back."

I waited for her sarcasm, but there wasn't any. I actually thought she was going to cry.

"You're serious about Emmett?"

She looked away, took a drink, refused to look at me.

"You're serious." Me.

Now she did look at me, all ready for war. "You're not the only one who can fall for someone in Forks."

"I hope this isn't a competition. The guy's been through enough. Not that I'm feeling sorry for him. But if you're just amusing yourself…"

"Don't be my father."

I nodded. "You're right. I'm not your father. I'm not even your brother. Sometimes I wonder if we're even friends."

"What's that supposed to mean? Has someone been filling your head with bullshit?"

I held up my hands, like 'down boy.' "I mean, I'm getting really serious with Bella. I want to marry her, and she feels the same toward me."

"So we can't be friends? I think we're past that. Why are you saying we're not friends?"

"Relax. I'm saying things need to change between us. I'm going to be a married man. You can't just show up here. I can't go off trying to fix things all the time. I'll always care about you, that won't change, but I have to make sure…there has to be room for Bella. We need to look at what we've got going on. You show up out of the blue, even in Chicago, and now here. I'm a single man living in a small town with my fiancé across the street. We know we're just friends…"

"Or not friends. You said you didn't think we were. I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"I didn't put it right. I meant that even friends have rules. Boundaries. And my life is changing. I have a fiancé. I have to consider her."

"So she's threatened by me?"

"Not if you care about her feelings."

"Oh, I have to care about the little baby's feelings? What does that mean? You want me out of your life." She was on the edge of her seat.

"I'm not going to have a screaming match with you."

"You don't think they're all against me? You don't think they want me dead?"

"Calm down. No one wants you dead. Not literally."

"Can't you see they're manipulating you? You're so damn weak. You're throwing me out, for a group of country bitches. They've got you by the balls and you're so desperate and pathetic you're willing to…."

She throws her glass against the wall where it shatters and the drink splatters onto the carpet. I'm on my feet now. She's flying toward me, slapping at me. I finally get a grip on her wrists. "Calm down," I yell. We've been here before. Aro and Vickie are here now. Tanya stands back. She's not a fan to begin with. Aro tries to take Vickie in his arms and comfort her. She turns to him, arms around his neck. She's sobbing now. She never cries. Not in front of anyone but me, and then only twice, but his pale elegant hands pat her back and rub up and down.

He leads her to the loveseat. Tanya is already picking up the glass. I tell her to leave it, but she continues to clean up the mess. I go upstairs for a towel. As I look under the sink for the carpet cleaner I realize I've been held hostage by Vickie's explosions for a number of years. I don't want to do it anymore.

I sit across from Aro and Vickie until she feels better. Tanya has long since returned upstairs, the only one actually working.

"Are you saying you don't want me to be in your life anymore?" she asks, her makeup streaking her cheeks. Aro takes a tissue, wets it on his tongue, and dabs her cheeks.

"Not like this," I say. "If it's going to be like this, I can't expect Bella to marry me. What woman would put up with this?"

"I don't see what's so bad. We're like family."

"No we're not. We use each other. It was good for a few years, you didn't have anyone, and neither did I. We were young, we helped each other. But it went on too long. Now it's just weird. "

"Edward," Aro rebuked me.

"It's true. I think we need a break. I know I do."

"No problem," she says pulling away from Aro and standing. "If that's how you feel, then I won't bother you again."

Aro follows her upstairs. I hear her having a rant once they get upstairs. I don't want her to leave like this. But I know she'll be dramatic as hell in the hopes I'll take it all back, and I'm a little old to play that game. If I can't manage my own life, I can't expect to bring Bella into it.

I slowly ascend the stairs. She has gathered her things, things she's left here from other visits. Aro has insisted on driving her rental to the airport. He's on his laptop looking to book her a flight.

"I don't want to part like this," I say.

"Don't try to make yourself feel better," she says.

"I care about you. But I'm in the way, Vickie. We're alone together. Think about it."

"I never felt that way," she says, this intense look. Tanya shoots me a look, but just as quickly pretends to be engrossed in her papers.

"Maybe you're not ready to admit it to yourself," I say. "We stay in one another's lives just enough to pretend we don't have to try. We've been hiding out together. But we're not really together. I'm not sure we like each other anymore. We have less of a relationship all the time. Whatever we're doing, it's not good. We need to be honest."

"If that's how you feel, then I can't get out of here fast enough." She turns to Aro. "I'll be in the car." She stomps out then. And in truth, all I can feel is relief.

Once Vickie and Aro are gone, I try to look over some papers with Tanya, but I'm shot. All I want to do is get over to Bella's and be with her. Trouble is, we won't be alone and I don't want to be involved in anyone else's problems.

"Look," Tanya sighs. "We'll get an early start in the morning."

I apologize to her.

She smiles, but she keeps packing up.

"We'll get an early start," I say.

"So, you said you're getting married? I couldn't help but overhear." She sits slowly, her attention on me now, her fingers touching her expensive silver necklace.

"Yes."

She looks away. "Do you think Vickie's in love with you?"

"What? No. Do you?"

She plays with the matching silver bracelet now. I can't imagine her hands kneading bread.

"I think she likes to pretend she's in love with you." Her look is uncomfortably intense.

I ponder what she's said. "Possibly. But I never really thought about it in those terms. I can't figure it out. I don't want to."

"Did you know that Aro has a thing for her?"

"Ah…not like you're implying." I'm actually shocked.

"He loves to rescue, too. Guess it goes with the territory." She gestures her perfectly manicured hand over the piles of paperwork.

"He's twice her age."

"Is that really your business?"

She's got a point. Old habits die hard, but she's right. "It's…none of my business. I knew I was getting in the way."

"And you knew she was getting in yours."

I shrugged. "Do you think he'll make a move? Is that why he took her to the airport?"

She smiled. "I think this wasn't such a bad night for him." There's a sadness in her voice, in her eyes. It's often there, but this is somehow more pronounced. I wonder, does she have a thing for the old man, too?

Later at Bella's, I am giddy to be beside her chopping celery. She's made a chicken gnocchi soup. There's this baked cornbread thing. We're making an apple salad to go with it. We kiss each other every two minutes. She tells me I look a little pensive. She promises not to interrupt my sleep tonight. I want to tell her an edited version of my conversation with Vickie. I just want her to know I'm getting everything ready. But I don't want to bring it into the room now. Jasper and Alice are on the couch. We're putting the food on the table when Rose shows up. She comes in the kitchen first. Emmett is behind her.


	22. Chapter 22

Catwoman 22

I looked up from cooking. I said hello to Em.

He nodded, but I'd never seen him so subdued. He sat across from Jasper and Alice, in Charlie's recliner. He liked to sit there, especially when Charlie was alive and he could steal it while Charlie was getting a sandwich. Emmett would scrunch around and say it was all nice and warm, and then he'd say something memorable like, "You haven't farted in this chair, have you Chief Swan?"

One night, when Emmett had pretended not to see Charlie enter the room with a fresh beer, Charlie had sat on him. Emmett had gotten out of the chair holding my dad in a vice grip. They never spilled a drop of the beer, and Emmett called him little Charlie after that. Only he could get away with that, and then barely.

Rose went in Charlie's refurbished room where she'd been staying with Alice. Emmett came over to the counter and watched Edward and me put the salad together.

"What cha' doin' Big Em?" I asked, and Edward fist bumped him.

He just smiled, but it was droopy. "Oh, nuttin' honey," he sighed.

"We've got soup and stuff," I sang.

He did that weak smile again. "Smells good, like always."

Rose came into the living room then, changed into shorts and a tank. "Hey, Daisy Mae," I said, hoping to break the tension and wondering when Jasper and Alice were going to come out of their love-bubble and help me.

Was I the only one who noticed that two people who once loved one another very much, and apparently still did, were standing in the same room?

Dinner was awkward at first. Edward kept complementing the food, and that helped, but he, too, seemed off.

"I'm having major Dejavu." Alice, finally.

"Yeah." Me.

"How long has it been since we've all eaten together?" Alice.

"Counting Edward, never." Me.

We laughed, but it wasn't funny at all.

"You know what I mean." Alice.

"Well let's see, you kicked Jasper to the curb in June, then Rose and I…the funeral dinner for Charlie?" Emmett. He kept slurping soup.

I could literally hear the little clock of Charlie's that sat on his end-table ticking.

"You know what," Edward said, "I think I'm going to head across the street and I've got some stuff to do. Bella, if you want to come on over later, I'd love a piece of that cake…and…"

"A piece of her?" Rose.

Now we did laugh. And Edward flamed red.

"Inappropriate," he said, scooting back his chair, but also laughing.

"I know, right?" Alice said.

I got up with him and went to the door, stepping outside. "No," I whined, "take me with you. Don't go."

"After you all clear the air, feel free to bring them over for some pool. Just don't forget the cake."

"And what will you do? I don't want to clear the air."

"I've had my drama quotient for the day." His arms went around my waist. I still wore the long thin cotton skirt from work, and my feet were bare. My blouse had ridden up as I'd locked my arms around his neck. He rubbed some bare skin. "I proposed to my beautiful girlfriend, and she said she'd crawl on her belly or something, and then I…I'll tell you about it later." He kissed me. Between the kiss and the skin rubbing and his general beauty, I almost went blind, but not really.

"Married," I said, my stomach flipping, part in fear, but part in excitement.

"Yeah. If they ever get their problems worked out, we might actually have a decent wedding party."

"So you want a big wedding?" I asked him.

"Hell no. But if you're there, I'll deal."

"Wait a minute. I don't want a big wedding. I'm borderline socially phobic."

"Really?"

"Um…yes. I live in Forks."

"You can't have a big wedding in Forks?"

"You can. The VFW hall holds three hundred if you don't want to dance. But you don't have to." I kissed his nose.

"We could elope. We could go anywhere in the entire world you want to go."

"Socially phobic."

"You said borderline."

"Sometimes borderline. Sometimes for real."

"Dear god. What next?"

"It's one of my charms."

"Charming, then."

"It's why I wanted the three months. I wanted you to realize…"

His answer for everything was red hot kisses from lips that turned my bones to rubber. And it made sense. But it was also the kind of thing I could hear myself saying to my lawyer years from now. Well, he could kiss!

In truth his greatest fault was blindly loving me.

Back to the pow wow. Everyone ate their food but Rose. "Why did he leave?" she asked.

"I think he wanted to give us some space." Me.

"He didn't have to do that," she groused.

"He's considerate that way."

"He's a good guy," Jasper said, smiling at me. 

"Yes he is. And if we all become friends he says we can use his pool table later."

Only Jasper smiled.

"So what is going on with you guys, if you don't mind my asking," I fumbled out.

Rose looked at Emmett, and looked at me. "Why do you think something is going on?"

"Because you're together," I said. "And you haven't been."

"We can't be together?" Rose.

"Obviously you can be," Me. I stand and pick up some of the dirty dishes and take them to the sink.

Jasper does the same. He stands by me at the sink, rinsing plates. He nudges me. I nudge him back. There's a spark of life in his eyes.

"Go on and tell them, Rose," Emmett says, getting up and plopping back in the recliner.

"What do I say? That I went over to your house to apologize and…"

"And," he continues, "we decided to talk again. We decided to come over here so we could try and remember…"

"…how to be together without killing each other?" Rose.

"I don't want to kill you, baby."

"I know. That would be too quick."

"Hey…I'm here, right?"

"Yeah," she whispers.

Alice started laughing. We all looked sharply at her. "I'm sorry. But I just remembered how it was with us. Emmett and Rose always lived out their entire relationship with us right there. It's like…we've always had these front row seats."

Rose was the only one who hadn't joined in.

"Can I say…the cabin?" Jasper.

We all laughed. Six of us in Mr. Brandon's cabin. The weekend Rose and Emmett finally did it.

"My poor dad so befuddled about the missing sheets."

"All he had to do was look in the burn barrel behind the cabin," Rose.

"Prom!" Me.

"Don't say it!" Alice.

Then me and Alice, "Emmett's missing shoes."

Me: "I can still hear his mother, 'Emmett, how do you lose the shoes to your tuxedo?'"

Me quoting Emmett: "I don't know, Mom. They must have run away."

"Or been thrown up on by my girlfriend," Alice.

I knock on Edward's door much later. I hold a big piece of cake on my best blue and white china because it's the end of a long, special day, and I know I'll be around to get it back.

He answers quickly. I will never get tired of this man…in jeans and a T-shirt, forearms and graceful hands. Bare-footed, hair... "I got your porch all muddy."

"Worth every clod," he says, taking the cake and pulling me inside. "You're alone?"

"You sound really happy."

"I…am." He kisses me. "Thank you for my cake."

I follow him into the kitchen. It's such a nice set-up. It's so clean, light wood, black and stainless.

Once he puts the cake on the counter, he pulls out a drawer and grabs a fork.

"Come on," he says, leading me down to his big sprawling second floor.

"Is this even the same house? This is nothing like Mr. Brandon's."

"Eh, it's pretty much rebuilt." He plops onto a big chair and pats the tiny space beside him. He must think my hips are a lot smaller than they are.

"Cozy," I say, smooshing my size sixes into the small space. He takes a big bite of cake, puts his head back and makes some loud moaning sounds. The second bite he attempts to feed me.

"I can't."

He pokes it in his mouth and chews, going through the savoring thing again.

"You like cake. And all food."

"Pretty much," he says, taking another forkful. "You are such a fantastic cook." He talks with his mouth full, but it's kind of adorable. He's just across the board starved for the very modest things I can actually do, minus the auto-harp playing, I hope.

He finishes quickly, puts his plate on the end table and puts his arm around me. "Do you want a drink or something before I attack you?" The free hand is stroking over my hair, touching my face, moving down my arm and playing with my hand.

I want to get to the attacking, but…"Hey, where's Aro?"

"He's due back. Overdue. He took Vickie to the airport."

"She's leaving."

"Back to Chicago. Emmett and she…on a break or something. So it went okay over there?"

"Yeah. Rose and Emmett left together."

"Vickie seems to think he wants to get back with Rose."

"I don't know. I'm afraid to hope."

We sat there in the most comfortable silence ever. I could feel the tiredness in Edward, and he could probably feel it in me, though I was somewhat revived by his nearness.

"I like this skirt and this little blouse," he said, his hands large as they rolled one of the pearl buttons near my collar.

"Thank you. We've been up for a lot of hours. I saw you in your boxers at like two this morning."

"You did. You shot me with the hose." He kissed me, like I'd been a good girl, "Can you say enema?"

A big ugly laugh bolted out of me. "I can't say that. I can't."

"I'll bet your daddy took you to the shooting range when you were just knee-high to a grasshopper."

I couldn't stop laughing. "He didn't. My mother was a pacifist." And that brought a sad thought, and quieted me down, but just barely.

"Bella?"

"Yesssss."

"Tell me something else about yourself. Tell me lots of things."

"No, you tell me after shaming me. It's your turn. Make it weird, too."

"Oh, let's see. I like to hug, really hard. I've had a problem with it ever since I was a child."

I laughed a little. "Okay. Should I start weight lifting or something? I mean…are there exercises?" We were speaking in this slow, lazy language.

"I don't know. But I was thinking if I put you against a wall and pushed into you, that might work."

We laughed again. I started to get tears in my eyes because I was so tired.

"Or we could put you against the wall and I could push into you, and wear a red shirt, and we could let a bull loose, and he could ram into us, and smash me against you." Me.

He laughed, too, covering his eyes. "It's definitely late."

He found the will to get up, and pull me up behind him.

"Are you going to do it? The really hard hug?"

"No. But someday I will, without warning." He lifted his brows.

Five hundred kisses later I made it out of his door and he watched me cross the street, so I shook my hips a little, and he wolf-whistled, then I tripped and nearly fell, and he whistled like he was at the ballgame.

So I bowed at my door, and went in the house all out of breath and laughing. Rose was back. She stood at the counter picking around at a piece of cake. Alice and Jasper were gone.

"What are you doing?" Rose.

"Nothing."

She smirked, and pressed a couple of crumbs against the back of her fork and slowly licked them off the untensil.

"I'm changing my answer. I am going to do it. I'm going to marry Edward."

She slowly laid the fork on her plate. "You're sure?"

I gathered up the last of the dishes and put them in the sink. "Yeah." Turned on the water.

"You were just freaking out about this."

Off with the water. I turned toward her. "Yeah. And I'm scared. But it's him. I don't doubt that. I just doubt me."

"She turned toward me. "Why do you doubt yourself? You're the most stable, loyal person I know. Besides Em. Honestly, you and Emmett should have hooked up years ago. You two…."

I went to her then and we hugged. "Um…not happening." We laughed. "So…?" we went into the living room and sat down. I was so tired I didn't know if I could get up again.

She gathered her lush blonde hair and quickly braided it down her back. Then she settled into the cushions. "I went over there…to his house. He yelled for me to come in so I did. That place has gone downhill. It looks like an extension of his store. Stuff everywhere, and you know Em…he always takes care of things. But, he was standing there, by the table, and he said, "I'm not taking you back." And I said, "Yeah. So will you go to Bella's with me? She's cooking." And he stood there a minute, staring at me, but I didn't look away. I didn't want to. So he said, let's go. And it was quiet on the way, but just before we went in he said, you don't have any say over my life anymore, just so you know. And I just nodded and we came in. And it went okay…I think."

"So what are YOU doing?"

"I…I don't know. When I saw him with that woman…I just snapped. I've bought into people doing things and saying they have no control. But when I saw her with him…the girl from Forks came out, you know? The one who can kick booty?"

"Yeah…we've met. She lives inside of me, too."

We shared a couple of remember when's again, but we were both too tired to continue. When Alice came in at some unholy hour, we all staggered off to bed.

The next day after work I went to the cemetery. I had yet to go since the day we buried Dad. Mostly because right next to him was Mom. Anytime I came to see Mom it was because Dad dragged me. But now that I had options, in some strange way, Dad was still dragging me. I knelt between the graves. The ground was wet and I knew the knees on my pants would be wet, but that was the least of my worries.

Charlie and Renee, I am your conflicted child.

I was just getting ready to have a one-sided conversation with my parents when I saw a cruiser creeping along the road. Jacob Black. He slowed his vehicle, but thankfully kept going. Times like these I hated small-town life.

I stayed on my knees but turned my back to the road. "Dad, Jacob Black is an asshole. He'll never be the chief you were, and there was no way in hell I was ever going to end up with him, so I'm sorry you were so disappointed when we broke up, and I know you were backing that horse's butt, but it was never going to happen.

"Mom…I've been mad at you for so long. I'm still mad. I listen to Ben talk about forgiveness…and I have forgiven you a couple of times…for like five minutes. I know it's futile to keep being angry. But I don't know who I am unless I'm angry about you. And I think we could of had more than that, don't you? I mean…is this the relationship you wanted when you had me? Is this all I was to you…someone to abandon and let grow up so angry I'm scared to love?"

I dug in my pocket for a Kleenex and wiped at my face.

"But Edward…here I am in love with a man who tried to do the same thing. If he tried that on me…what if we got there? What if it came to that? You taught me this fear…you. He tried to end his life. And he's so beautiful, such a beautiful person…but so were you. I needed you. I still need you. I don't know if I can do this."

I cried for a minute then. "Boo-hoo, right? Like you care. Mom. You wrecked us. Charlie never remarried. I was such a life-sucker, so needy, guess he didn't think he could. I heard him tell Sue Clearwater that one time, 'I already put her through enough.' He meant me. Sue wanted to date, but he wouldn't because of me. So how could I move on when he hadn't?

"Yeah, Charlie, what a sad, stuck pair we were. But I tried to move on. Mike Newton. I was almost relieved when he turned out to be a cheating asshole. Then I had my reason to never try again.

"Okay, that's just the crappy backstory. I'm wondering if maybe our family are doomed to fail at love. I have nothing to go on here, like no parental example. Charlie, I miss you by the way. I'm still guilty over your room, but it was seriously stuck in the eighties. So, I'm in love, as you may have heard. Edward is a fine person. And he reminds me of you. I'd say he's a mixture of you and Mom. Steady, but unpredictable too. He's got the artistic flare thing like Mom, but more accomplished. He appreciates all of my efforts, like you did, proud of my averageness. I feel safe with him. Until I'm being psycho. You know the psycho thing I'm talking about—the fear of changing. But I know you don't want me to stay stuck. You told me, that last day, your last day, kiddo I just wish I could see you settled with someone. Yeah, like I needed anyone with you around. You were it, big boy. I miss you."

My one tissue couldn't cut it, so I started to use the tail of my shirt. Then this handkerchief floated into my field of vision. That was a Charlie thing, passed on to Jacob.

"Waving the white flag," he said.

I took the handkerchief because I was desperate, effectively blowing my nose on his olive branch. I couldn't look up at him, so sat there staring at Charlie's tombstone.

"I'm sorry to intrude. You looked so alone…"

"Yeah," I pushed onto my feet, "I don't generally bring the band when I come to the cemetery."

"I'm sorry. I drive through…it's on my route. Kids still like to run through here and push the old stones over."

I held up the squashed handkerchief. "I'll mail it." I headed for my car.

"Hey," he stalked after me, "I miss him, too."

With the blood coming back in to my legs, I walked faster.

"Bella, wait up."

His hand on my arm.

"Why do you always have to go for my balls? I've been decent."

Here we were, older and just as dumb. He was a handsome man, but there was something missing in him. He had an edge, but it held no appeal. It just cut.

"Jacob, just stop. Just be a person. Stop being obnoxious. Stop cornering me, or making me uncomfortable everytime I see you. That little speech about Edward…you were so out of line. You think a handkerchief fixes everything? I'm tired of acting like you're this upstanding citizen. You were at my house because of Charlie. I have been careful not to give you the wrong idea. I was happy when you dated Leah. I tried to have you over with Leah and it made it worse. I hope you find someone else. It's not me. It will never be me. You have no right to speak to me about my personal life. We have to live in this town. Edward wants to bring good things to this community. There's no place for this imaginary quarrel."

I look at his hand, waiting for him to release me. I'm not afraid of him. But seconds before he releases me, I'm not sure.

"You know how many times you've hurt me? You get off on it. I've got the same position your dad had. We grew up knowing we'd be together. But you dumped me for Newton, and I knew what he was. What I accomplished isn't enough. I'm the youngest chief Forks has ever had, younger than your dad when he took this job. Then Cullen. You're easy Bella. You know about his past? You know he tried to kill himself?"

"That's not your business. Obviously you've looked into things. He's not trying to hide it, but it's not your business. Edward hasn't broken the law. You have no right to abuse your office."

"Come on, Bella, you know how this works. You think Charlie wouldn't have looked into this?"

"I'm done talking with you. You've ignored everything I just said. I'm concerned that you're leading the force. You don't seem capable of listening."

"I'm not abusing my office, I'm doing my job. I can't help but care about you. I really care. You tell me to stop. How do I turn it off? How do I stop wanting you? I know I can't force it, but it's hard not to want to do something."

"Do what? Are you threatening? You know that's so wrong."

"You know what's really sad? I'll wait for this to be over. I'll take you, even when he's finished with you. I'll always be waiting, Bella."

"That's not sad, Jacob, not even close. You want sad? Look around. We're in a cemetery. But you? You're pathetic. You're making a choice."

He looked struck. Then angry. "I'm not a lap dog. Don't expect me to co-operate with everything he wants to do just so he can look like the hero to you."

"Jacob, I'm just your excuse. You're afraid. I know what it looks like, believe me. Go home and call Leah. Apologize and do what you have to do before you're ten years older and still alone."

The next morning


	23. Chapter 23

Catwoman 23

The next morning, Saturday, Jasper came over and fired up the oven. Rose, Alice and I worked quietly over the various dough mixtures. Edward came early as well, and I taught him how to put together the cinnamon rolls. I loved the look of his hands in the dough and his strong forearms as he kneaded it.

Alice did her 'Ghost' thing, reaching around Jasper and kneading over his hands as he worked his batch of white bread. "My white bread's makin' white bread," she sang badly to "Unchained Melody."

This made us laugh, but mostly we worked with a minimum of sound.

I hadn't seen much of Edward the day before. He, Aro and Tanya had worked all day and into the evening. He would work most of the afternoon as well, but he wanted to be in on the bread process. In addition, they were delivering and laying his sod today, so his yard would be green and he could eventually use his new mower on a lawn besides mine.

So we baked, and Edward came once to see the cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. He made me promise not to cut them until lunch. "Don't cut into the rolls without me," he kept saying, and I thought, Dude, we'll save you some rolls. We can hardly eat three dozen before lunch.

But Emmett hadn't gotten the memo, so imagine my surprise when I entered the kitchen with a batch of cooled loaves, and Emmett was nursing a tooth, holding the remnant of a roll, and holding a ring between his fingers. "I thought we were supposed to remove all jewelry when we baked," he said, citing one of our few rules.

Alice rushed over to him. "Let me look at that! This is beautiful. Where did it come from?"

"It was in my roll!" Emmett.

Rose had been reading a magazine, but she slammed it on the coffee table. We all crowded around the ring. None of us had seen it before. There were three impressive diamonds nestled in a somewhat ornate silver setting.

Rose was the first one to say it. "That ring belongs to Edward."

"He put it in the roll for Bella!" Alice.

"Dude's coming across the road," Jasper said checking the window.

Alice screamed. She plucked the ring from Emmett and started to fit it inside one of the rolls.

Everyone got busy. "Help me wrap this bread," I said, frantic. Suddenly all four of them were crowded around me trying to look busy.

"Maybe we should just tell him the truth," I said, growing more frantic at the idea that he was obviously intent on giving me a ring.

"No," they all agreed.

So Edward came in. "It smells so damn good out there. It's filling my house, even with the smell of new grass."

We were all gathered around the loaves like a team of Elves, wrapping with diligence.

"Wow, mailing that overseas?" Edward said, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He was remarking on Emmett's six layers of Saran Wrap to package one loaf.

Then he moved to the rolls. I saw him counting and counting again. "Hey, who's been into the rolls," he sounded a little panicked. Of course he would see right away that the roll in which he'd planted the ring was gone.

Alice went to his assistance. I couldn't bear to look at him. I could feel his worry. She spoke softly to him, and he came to me holding a roll. He pulled me gently from the group and everyone stopped what they were doing. Edward went down on one knee, his face so unguarded. He wasn't smiling, but he was earnest, and also relived looking, happy to know someone hadn't ingested the ring, no doubt.

"Bella Swan, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Boy…yes." I muttered. He took my slightly greasy hand, and easily slid the ring on my finger.

He stood then, and we did what we did best. We kissed. I felt so much love I whimpered.

Our friends cheered, and Edward pulled me to him, lifting me from the ground, and he crushed me in a hug. Without warning.

So a few weeks later, Edward and I were in Ben's office for our first session of premarital counseling. We were sharing the event with two other couples, a recently united and now engaged Jacob Black and Leah, and Ben's younger brother Eric and his fiancé Jessica.

Ben had asked us if we would mind being in a premarital group, and we'd happily agreed, well Edward had happily agreed. I'll admit I'd been worried. Just a vague, low-grade dread I couldn't explain. He'd obviously not run the sign up sheet past Angela for she would have explained that her boss Jacob and I had history.

So here we were now, uncomfortably crammed into Ben's office, having our opening session on marriage preparation. We'd each been given a sheet with a statement we were to write a response to. This was not the initial paperwork denoting the basics like name, age, church affiliation, how we met, how long we'd dated, and some brief family history. This was certainly more in-depth: how will your fiancé be a better person for having married you?

I tried to ignore Jacob's large dark presence in the room. I'd moved my chair as close to Edward as possible. He'd leaned slightly away from me, though he kept his leg against mine. He was earnestly scribbling away, seeming very engaged in his answer.

I wrote: "I think loving me will be a challenge. If Edward can accept this mission everyday, I believe he will learn the patience of a saint. Perhaps he will be so noted for his patience he can write a book on the subject and he'll become a famous author. This will be better than becoming so frustrated with me that he takes to smoking."

I realized this was dripping in sarcasm, but it was in pen, and I'd really only written it because of my extreme ire over Jacob being in the room. He'd manipulated to get here, I was sure. Poor Leah. Was he serious about this engagement? I hoped he was.

I felt so guilty toward Edward that I hadn't answered well. He sat there, re-reading his answer, and smiling to himself. He reached for my hand and gave it a little squeeze before settling them on his thigh like two nesting birds. My bird was wearing a ring. It was winking at me. Edward also guarded his paper from my prying eyes, but was shamelessly trying to read mine. I carefully flipped it over and sandwiched it between my leg and my hand.

Ben said, "Okay, who wants to read theirs first, Bella?"

"N..no." I said.

We all laughed nervously. Not Jacob. He didn't laugh I was sure.

"Go on," Ben said thinking I was joking.

"I…not first," I mumbled.

"I'll read," Edward said, rescuing me.

"Bella couldn't be a better person than she is now. So I go in to this knowing I can't make her better, nor would I want to. But I do want to love her very well so she can flourish. That will be my goal each day. So I have a lot to learn, and Bella will help me." He looked at me, seeming very proud of this answer. I could feel the other two men shifting beside me. Edward was like teacher's pet, and he wasn't ashamed at all. He'd set the bar now. He was squeezing my hand with enthusiasm, trying to encourage me to read, I knew.

"Ready now Bella?" Ben asked.

"Um…" I edited. I read my first two sentences: "I think loving me will be a challenge. If Edward can accept this mission everyday, I believe he will learn the patience of a saint." Then I ad-libbed, "And what's better than that?"

I heard a strange sound from Jacob, like an 'oh please.' Peripherally I saw Leah hit his leg. I slowly peered at Ben. He wasn't quite buying it, but he was also used to mediocrity, being a pastor of a low-key church, and finally I smiled shyly at Edward. He was reading the rest of my answer, the part I hadn't read aloud about him becoming an author. He was trying not to laugh.

After an hour of the most desultory Q and A, with the exception of Edward who answered every question without embarrassment, and completely earnestly, giving me a glimpse of how he must have been in school, and making me know it was a good thing he'd played football, we sat through Ben's closing appeal that we all go for coffee together and get to know one another so we could support one another, and blah. None of that was going to happen. I was pulling Edward out of the building and to his car the minute he'd shaken Ben's hand and finished his, "Thanks, Ben, this was really great," line.

Jacob smirked at me over the top of his cruiser as he unlocked the door. Leah got in without assistance on the other side. She'd better get used to the no frills approach to life. Things like manners were always going to be an option with the chief.

Once our doors were closed Edward and I spoke simultaneously. He said, "That was great," and I said, "No way I'm sitting through that again."

Only I said, 'through that again,' after he'd already spoken, so it sounded really loud.

He was shocked. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Edward, for a social phobic that was the equivalent of sitting on the john in the middle of a busy bus terminal. No walls or anything."

He laughed, but as an alternative to cursing. "You're not going to do premarital counseling so we can understand how to make the best marriage?"

He wasn't laughing now. Or smiling. He was just disappointed, like I'd grabbed his new dinosaur and smashed it and was trying to hand it back. And we were eight years old.

"I'm sorry. But that was painful. Jacob Black? Are you kidding me? Tell me what you learned in there that you did not already know?"

"I learned that I can't read you as well as I'd hoped."

"Oh." I wasn't expecting such a ready answer.

"But you said I'd help you. And I am. This is the help. I am not going back to that."

He started the car. "I didn't know you took Black so seriously."

"We are not friends." I didn't want to get into our last encounter. But I wondered, since I was engaged, did I have to tell Edward things like that? I didn't want to upset him.

"We had another run-in at the cemetery a couple of weeks ago."

"What kind of run-in?" We were following Jacob's cruiser.

"I told you I went to visit my parent's graves. Jacob saw me and stopped. We argued. He was obnoxious. Now don't take this weirdly…"

He frowned at me. I put my hand on his shoulder. "You guys have to work together on the animal shelter. I don't want to complicate that. And he is our chief of police."

"Sounds like he's the one complicating things. Did he come on to you again?"

"It's this stubborn thing he thinks he owes Charlie. We don't even like each other. He pushes buttons. I let him have it, but he did take my advice."

"Which was?"

"I told him to make up to Leah. Apparently he did. But I don't want to buddy with them. It wouldn't be good for them or us."

"What if I tell Ben we want to go solo. We'll meet with him ourselves?"

I stifled my groan. It was a fair compromise, but I couldn't imagine why Edward put so much stock in this. Ben and Angela had a good marriage, but I credited Angela for that more than anything Ben had learned in seminary. Angela was a saint.

But maybe the best thing pre-marital class would do for me was this, learning to compromise. Learning to give up something because it was important to Edward. He was working with me. What chance would our marriage have if I didn't meet him somewhere in the middle?

So I agreed to try going solo. Together.

"Hey, do you want to see the local parking spot?" Me.

He sighed. "Yes. But you know you're making it mighty hard, Miss Swan."

"Am I?" I batted my lashes. He broke out laughing.

"Did you not hear the part about accelerating the physical relationship stymies true intimacy on all of the other critical levels?"

"When it comes to intimacy I'm dyslexic. It's called Slexic." I put my hand on his leg.

He swerved a little.

"Turn here," I said.

"This is a road?"

I saw Jacob hit his brakes up ahead. He'd been watching us in his rearview, and he'd know what we were doing. This was a lovers' lookout. The number one baby makin' out of wedlock spot in all of Washington.

We pulled into the clearing. A couple of cars were parked at various spots near the look out. The look out was a three hundred foot cliff that dominated the river and the town below. Edward parked well away from the others. He cut the lights and turned off the engine. "Hey, this is great."

"Glad you think so. Wanna look over the edge?"

"Definitely," he said. We got out and closed our doors quietly, as if we didn't want to disturb our fornicating neighbors.

He took my hand and we walked near the edge. Below, at our feet the river moved like a dark quiet force and beyond it the lights of Forks twinkled.

"I'll be damned," Edward said softly. He let go of my hand and grabbed me around the waist pulling me into his side. I adjusted so my hands were at his back and on his flat stomach. He felt so wonderful in my hands. He kissed me slowly, then sighed and looked at the view while I studied his profile.

It was growing chilly. He led me back to the car. From there we could look at the stars. He got in on my side and slid the seat back then pulled me in on his lap. I scrunched up on him and we looked at the stars. "I'm in love with you," he said.

"I know." I held my ring up in the weak light. I stared at it all the time, trying to get a handle on what it signified, his love, my love, our commitment.

He took my hand and kissed the ring, kissed up my arm, warm kisses, then up my neck, my jaw, then on my lips, hand buried in my hair. "Oh, I love you," he said again. More kisses. His mouth so perfectly wet and welcoming. His arm tightening around me, his hand cradling the back of my head, my body curled into his, his thighs moving under me, opening more, me dropping more deeply into his lap. This will be my life? Sign me up.

I started my horny moaning. It had been so long, my whole life. And he'd been a monk. I could orgasm now, without him touching me there. I could easily bring him to an explosive climax. No problem. Just a little bounce, the right word.

"Bella, Bella," he gasped.

We'd reached the guilt line. He was taking us down.

"Bella."

I laid against him. He kept his arms so tight around me. "I can't keep doing this. I'm going crazy," he laughed. "Look at the stars," he whispered, a crazy joy in his voice. "There's the milky way."

"Not helping," I said.

He laughed and squeezed me harder.

"Must breathe," I choked out.

He eased immediately, but I didn't mean it. "I like it hard," I said, turning to him and raising my brows.

"You are the death of me." He kissed my forehead.

I laid my head against his shoulder. He smelled so good.

"Edward…tell me what you would do when we got home if we were married."

He groaned. "Are you serious?"

"What will you do? What do you think about doing, other than the actual deed?"

"You mean like romantically? Because the deed is not so romantic in my scenarios."

"You have scenarios?"

He squeezes me, but it feels spastic, as if he's had a surge of energy.

"Bella, if I'm going to answer this, I need to get in the other seat."

I reluctantly comply and we rearrange ourselves so he is sitting beside me instead of beneath me. I miss him so much, but we're as close as the console allows, and we're holding both of one another's hands.

"I really look forward to…and not because you need this, before you answer me smartly…but I want to…bathe you."

"You think of bathing me. I'm …listening."

He kisses me, and speaks so softly I know my eyes droop with lust.

"First I would prepare. I'd shop. Food. Flowers. Candles. Music. Oil. Bubbles. Sponges, sea critters…whatever. Then I'd prepare. Everything right. Water perfect."

"Do you take this bath with me?"

"No. This is for you. Supposedly. First I undress you."

"What am I wearing?" I so badly want to put my hand over his privates. I want access.

"You're wearing a skirt and blouse. The long skirt and the short blouse. Much as I want to see your legs, I love that skirt because it blows against you and it's thin, and it outlines so gracefully. I love your body."

"I…love your body."

"You do?"

"Yes. How could I not? You're perfect to me. I love your neck. It's so strong, but not thick like…beefy. Not 'in your face' male, but male and beautiful, like carved. You're graceful. You have an artist's hands. I think of them playing the piano. Playing me."

"Oh shit," he whispers, crushing me to him, his lips on mine. We kiss like mad fools. When we pull back his hand rubs back and forth over my collar bones. "I'm completely yours."

I nod. "The same," I say. "No one else. Ever."

"When I undress you…there's this poem in me. You're very pale, very creamy and so soft, I can't get enough of your skin. When you're naked, I look at you, I'm worshipping you, I'm speechless, but I'm so full of words, the poem, and I pick you up, and you're so delicate in my hands, but you're so powerful. You can shatter me. And I carry you through the room to the tub, and it's all glowing and warm and misty and I gently set you in the water, and I carefully place you there, and then I just use my hand," he swallows loudly, "and I bring the water onto your shoulders, and the water runs over your breasts, your nipples so dark pink. And when my hand trails lower, I glide over your soft flesh, in the water, and I can feel each swell, each dip, each pucker, each fold, slick and soft and exquisite. And I'll just let you feel it, in my hands, how much I love you."

"And my legs," I whisper back, "they're parted, they're open. For you."

He gently butts his head against my chest. He's panting. "Oh god, Bella." He's panting.

"Did you?" I say. A little laugh.

He nods, he's sweaty. "I'm sorry."

I look out the windshield, at the stars and I smile. "Me, too."


	24. Chapter 24

Catwoman 24

Edward and I were still holding onto one another when we heard the car pull into the clearing. It was the cruiser and it stopped behind our vehicle. Then the spotlight shone through our back window, blinding us. "Unbelievable," I said.

I could see Jacob was alone after he turned around and came back by our car which was still parked near the overlook. "I guess he took Leah home."

"Move on," he said from the loudspeaker. He continued to pull out of the park.

Edward stared at me and laughed a little. "He's a dick."

"No kidding." I pushed the hair back from Edward's sweaty forehead. "Even he can't ruin this night."

It took Edward a minute, but he softly rebuked me, "Bella. I'm a dick, right?"

"No. Just…no. You are the man." I kissed him all along his prickly jaw.

"Bella…am I the guy?"

"What do you think? I just talked you into an orgasm."

He cradled my face. "Am I the guy, Bella?"

He was so serious again.

"How about a simple yes?" This earned me more kisses.

"Then let's not wait. I want to be married. I want to be with you…all the time. In everyway. Let's just go get married."

That's what put us in the air three weeks later. We'd gotten the abbreviated version of premarital counseling from Ben, but at least it had been private, without the chief, who, by the way, had just been yanking our chain when he'd harassed us at the overlook. That's what he told Edward at the meeting of potential board members for opening Forks first animal shelter.

That aside, now we were dragging Ben with us to Esme and Carlisle's home so he and Angela could help create our great day.

Ben was whooping it up with, "Praise Gods," as Edward let the plane ascend. Some of his praises sounded frantic, and transitioned into, "Oh, Gods," and grew increasingly louder as we rose higher, but eventually they leveled out with the flight, though I have to say he fondled Edward's shoulder more than I did during the trip.

"Man of faith," Angela said by way of explanation.

Rose had returned to the city weeks ago. She had a type-A approach to relational conflict—work. And more work. I'd only had one conversation with Emmett. He'd asked if I heard from Rose, and then he shrugged and said, "Me to." They were just talking, he said, and then mostly texting. He didn't know if more would come of it. He didn't want to be hurt again. And yet he knew he was already on that road. But something in him was dead. That's what surprised him. He'd always imagined that if she'd give him the slightest reason to hope he'd want back in, but now he found himself almost unable to respond to her. Almost more angry at her attempt to revive a friendship than he was over the break-up. It made him feel like the break-up wasn't a hundred percent. That she'd ripped them to shreds without a level of conviction he could, at least, respect. They should already be married, they should be living their lives together. And now she says they aren't done? What does that mean? She doesn't get to define them. She doesn't get to tell him anything about himself. He's really pissed.

Alice finally went back to her life in the city, at Rose's insistent urging. Hiding out in Forks, as Rose called it, wasn't reality. She may have lost her business, but there was an amount of insurance money, and her apartment. She needed to make some critical decisions about her future. And she had. She wanted Forks. This frustrated Rose who'd set her personal life around Alice. Alice had been a big draw on Rose moving to the city. Now she was feeling deserted, though she never said it directly.

So, Alice was coming back to Forks. I didn't know if I agreed, but for the immediate future she would move into my house. Or Edward's. We hadn't yet decided which we would inhabit—his or mine. There were strong arguments either way. Mine was a granny, his was young, hip and highly functional. Mine was history, homey, and heart-felt, his was beautiful, energy efficient and luxurious. I could see Alice and maybe Jasper in my old abode. I'd only be across the street, in case it called to me in the middle of the night or something, and I knew addressing its neglect would be right down Jasper's alley.

Edward was truly willing to do whatever I wanted. As usual, I was paralyzed with the idea of such radical change. So for now, I was trying to focus on becoming a married woman. We'd figure the houses out when we got home.

The only one not headed for the city was Emmett. He planned to drive a rental there for the day of the wedding, spend one night in a motel and drive home. He was trying to kill two rabbits with one arrow, or two deer with one bullet. He'd purchased a panel van for deliveries via the internet and wanted to drive it home. Sentimental, I know. But he was also carefully doling out any free time Rose could take for granted. I suspected he didn't want to lose his cool on my wedding day, so the sooner he could get out of Dodge and back on the road to home, the better.

Esme took control of the whole wedding event. Alice helped, of course. The gazebo in their back yard was decked out with white flowers and tiny white lights, even though we were married on a sunny day.

The guest list was brief but meaningful. Besides our hosts it included Edward's brother, James, 'the normal kid,' as Edward affectionately introduced him.

Of course, he looked nothing like Edward, no one did or could in my opinion, but he was handsome in a less blinding way. He was tall, not as tall as Edward, but still, he was very well built. No wonder Tanya, the only unattached female besides Rose, who James might assume was with Emmett, even though he mostly ignored her, hung on James' arm. Tanya and James seemed very comfortable with one another, very familiar. I thought she might be a motherly figure, with a great figure, but I changed my mind after watching them shoot a few lingering stares at one another.

"They had to go outside of the gene pool to find me," James said, the lines concerning two extremely tough topics, autism and adoption, well rehearsed. Edward's mother had obviously decided to use humor to help her sons embrace who they were. I felt a stab of regret that I wouldn't know her, but I also felt that revelations like these made her presence felt on such a momentous day.

"Thanks for bringing normal into the fold," I said to James, shaking his hand.

He wasn't having that. He pulled me in for a hug, but at the last minute, put his hand on the small of my back, bowing me forward and smashing my boobs against him. The little rat. I immediately knew what he was.

Aro had arrived with Vickie. It's like her eyes were movie cameras, missing nothing, watching every little interaction, between Edward and myself, between Rose and Emmett, only taking breaks to gaze into her drink and smirk. Why was she here? Oh yes, Edward wanted Aro. Again, he'd been willing not to let the man who'd basically mentored him through the years in the art of business and its subsequent social graces, be left out of this most important day. How could I say no? But the closest thing to Jacob Black, for me, girl-wise, was Vickie. However, she only had the power to bug me IF I gave her that power, so eff-off. This was my wedding.

Then there was my gang of four (five counting me), my misfit family, my dears, my posse, my homies, my band of brothers, and sisters, my circle, my buds. They'd worked hard to raise me, and they weren't finished yet. We'd grown up together, experienced each right of passage together, or in the proximity of one another, except for the life of crime Emmett and Jasper entered into in highschool where they frequently robbed the liquor store with quite a sophisticated operation, baffling my father who never did catch them. Besides that, we'd been open and transparent with one another, keeping one another safe, encouraging each other, there for each other, until we weren't. How I loved them, and how awesome they looked, good enough for a poster for wedding guest hotness.

Ben officiated. Angela stood with me. She'd always been my girl on the side, and Rose and Alice understood.

We'd decided ahead of time, well Esme and Alice did, to all dress in black and white. I wore a seven hundred and fifty dollar non-traditional antique white dress that fit me tight in the bodice and hips and flared slightly to my feet. There was lace on the straps over my shoulders, and the back was cut out to where my bra should have been if I were wearing one. The bodice fit so well, I didn't need the extra support. Yeah, I was a handful, but I was perky.

My hair had been styled by Rose. She'd made many little braids and artfully arranged them to wrap around the back of my head, near the nape of my neck, the place where Edward loved to kiss. One of the places. I was adored.

He wore a black suit and a crisp white shirt with a black tie. His hair was properly styled by the breeze. He looked hot enough to set that gazebo on fire and his eyes and his smile were set on me.

It was the most stunning and meaningful of weddings. It was simple, and yet things stood out all the more. Ben's words, "Gathered…to join…man…woman…do you…take…to be…lawfully…wedded…husband…."

Ben was at his most relaxed, just happy to be on the ground, I think.

There was enough of a breeze that our clothing gently moved around us like we were angels holding an ancient rite, a ring of solemnity and joyous celebration.

Snapshots of my day were the beautiful faces of the people I loved most, Esme feeding Carlisle a forkful of raspberry cake, Alice with her face scrunched against Rose, Jasper dancing with Esme, Emmett standing beside Rose who kissed his cheek at the last moment, Aro hugging Edward, Edward beaming at me, Carlisle holding Jasper, Emmett's mouth wide open with cake inside, Esme dancing with Edward, Alice with her hands on my cheeks, Rose holding my hands, Edward lifting me in his arms, and on…and on.

Not since my dad had I felt such an overwhelming environment of love. And this was different, of course, and more surprising in that it didn't exist and then it did. Edward had inspired it. Edward wouldn't let me run away. He'd had the grit to keep coming after me. And so it became a reality, I was his wife, he was my husband. My defenses disappeared into the sinkhole. I was moving. I was free. I was a goner.

Edward looked so deliciously handsome, he took my breath away, his collar open now, tie pulled haphazardly to the side. He didn't often drink, he was sensitive to stimulants, but he'd had a few today. Prior to this day, he'd told me stories of how he'd been taught with flashcards the proper emotional expressions for how he felt and how he should realize others felt. So he'd wanted me to make faces, show all of the expressions I could think of, and he guessed each one, and all of its possibilities, until I tried to show sexual rapture, and that earned me one of his spontaneous bone-crushing hugs.

He didn't need the flashcards now. Or ever. He was perfect. And when he wasn't perfect, he was perfect anyway. Because if someone was willing to give you two chances for forgiveness you'd never even need to use, you were good. You could recover. No matter what.

So trees and flowers, steps on the hollow wooden planks, white and black, eyes reflecting love, a simple band slipped on my finger, a grasp, a promise to me, to God, a kiss, his heart upon his lips, surrendered, finally, the hug, the joy, the introduction and then our lives.

But first, our bed.

We had the honeymoon suite, Carlisle and Esme's guest house. We didn't want the traffic of going to a busy place. We just wanted to be.

He carried me over the threshold into the simple white space, deceptively simple, according to Esme, who had thought of everything. Bleached white, bookcases, classics and pottery. Wood floor, soft rugs, one overstuffed loveseat. Small TV, music from the speakers hidden in the books, around we twirled, me in his arms, kiss and kiss and kiss. I love you whispered like blessing over him over us. I stood before him and he unzipped my dress, caressed my back, up and down, soft warm lips along my spine. I ease the lacy straps over my shoulders. I turn, face him, so when my breasts spring free, I want to see his eyes, watch them enjoy the gift that I intend to be. I ease down the dress.

Half slip. French and pink. Sliding down my legs, I step out.

Panties, lace, stockings cast white, no garters.

He falls to the bed, sits. Studies me, studies me, his eyes glide up slow, down slow, up, to my eyes. His eyes so green, sometimes shuttered with thick dark lashes, sometimes open and smoldering. So much approval, I am very good. He smiles. I smile. We are in complete sympathy. "My Bella. You are the most beautiful creature God ever made."

Frantic now. He lifts his foot. Socks and shoes. He stands, drops the shirt, the pants follow. More looking. Yes. Hell yes.

I step forward, close. Slow down. I let my hand polish over his broad chest, his beating heart, the sacred resting place for everything I love. Kiss over the heart, this body, this flesh outlined muscle, strength.

"Sweet, hot, pink, pink girl," he whispers before the kiss. "I treasure you." He peals my panties down my legs. He rises and takes in the biggest breath.

The bed is white and downy. There is a bubbly drink, champagne, strawberries in a glass bowl. He pulls I am on his lap, just the stockings, just him. I've seen him now, he's seen me. Wows and whispers, just my breasts, just them, his mouth so warm and I pull him to me, crush him to me, and his eyes are soft and opened and closed, and we're barely aware, and so aware. He loves my lips, my breasts, my nipples, larger than he knew, so sexy, so ripe on his tongue and sweet, he can't get enough, and I say, their yours.

He loves my stomach, my navel, the contours of my round hips, he's thought so much about them, these hips, I could follow them forever, and I will, he says, tracing the round, then center to my center, let me see you, let me see you, parts the waters, kisses there, new kisses where I've always been private, and I stutter, "Oh…" the room is hazy, in and out, I know my eyes roll as I gasp, and ride the waves of shouting desire and my trembling legs close on him and hold, tight and strong the way he likes.

He's gentle and used to holding himself, such careful control, rigid. His hardness which I've touched, caressed, now pushes into me, impossible task, and I come into the reality of ceiling and chandelier, and I gasp, no. He stops, his arms on either side of me, and I know this is basic, but it's been so long, but he pulls back a little, and we kiss some more, and I'm slick and wet, and he moves inside. Oh my god. And god. From us both, such a serious sacred thrust. And a thrust, and only two more before he can't hold back.

"Shhhhh," Me. I want him to fall, and fall into it, into the unfolding of himself, of us, over the cliff, into love, into love.


	25. Chapter 25

Catwoman 25

Our wedding party had all dispersed back to their lives for our honeymoon. The only ones on the property besides us were the servants. We were to spend one more night here at Carlisle and Esme's, then leave for our official honeymoon in the Virgin Islands.

We had so much to learn about one another. The morning after our wedding, we awoke incubating in one another's arms. I remembered this slow, delicious episode of sex during the night, me awakening first to pull up the covers, him taking that as a cue to have more sex. From a dead sleep he was instantly awake. He slept light apparently. His gentle hands roamed over me, this way of touching that left me feeling drawn or molded as he moved over me with discovery, the same weighing and realization again and again, swell of breasts, protrusion of nipples, oh these nipples, bigger than he knew, darker, looking at him, stomach, center of stomach, fingers in every declevity, soft, skin, slick, silk, hair, bare. Rubbing with his long fingers, gifted, generous fingers, frenzied on me, bringing me to frenzy, paralyzing me, my back arched, suspended in this ecstacy. Four times easy. "You're like an Olympian," he whispered. "You are so inspiring," I said.

Then the hot plunge from behind. "Oh yeah," me purring.

"You purr," he says, so proud, "a new side of Catwoman."

"Fuck you," I say, another climax, going for the gold.

"Okay," he agrees, slipping in from behind. Breath so warm in my ear, that alone setting me off in another wave as he pumped into me, muttering, moaning, jerking his hips, coming apart, but staying in me, falling asleep there.

So now, in the morning, we've come apart, but he's hard. I lift the covers and look. He's so beautiful, this chest and tight stomach, navel, dark hair, penis with the head carved like Darth Vader. I smile. I'm so appreciative. He's been so cared for, but he's strong, and his body is…his hips and legs, I love his feet. A keeper.

His eyes are closed but he bucks his hips a little, and I take hold of him and stroke him, and his legs stiffen and he sucks air between clenched teeth, so I give him the first hand job from me. Yeah, it's sweet, and he teaches me how to start slow, move up to the helmet. I tell him the Darth Vader thing and he laughs, but he grimaces too, because he's led me to quicken the pace, and I get it. Power of recall. So I take great pleasure in having this power to touch him and love him and bring him so much pleasure and turn him to jelly as I watch him climax and release the jam that holds the swimmers we'll need someday to start a family. I giggle when he's ridden the wave. His eye pops open. He immediately helps my nipples out, feeling that responsibility of them looking at him and him responding like, "I'm here, guys." I even take the tissues from the nightstand and clean him off. And I tell him I'm practicing for our old age, and we make a few jokes about how saggy his balls will be, and he pulls on my boob, and I tell him there's surgery. But not ball surgery which makes us both get quiet because we've somehow moved the topic to breast cancer and prostate cancer, but that only lasts a split second because I'm married, and fucked royally, and loved, and so damn happy.

As we board the flight that will take us to the Islands, I realize how sore I am. Edward had rubbed soothing oil between my legs, which led to yet another climax, but he'd put the oil there, but I was still moving like a…whore.

Let's face it, awakened love meant I'd been boinked six ways to Sunday. I was surfer girl, I'd ridden every wave that ocean, or Edward had coughed up. Orgasm had been my natural state. Any other state like eating (food), reading, watching TV, had been the minute exception. I'd had one long climax since entering Esme's guesthouse, one long feast on Edward Cullen, and I had the swollen privates to prove it. However, the only one I was willing to prove it to was Edward, who had sympathetically put on the oil and fucked me again.

He was a human sex toy. Mine only. There was no body part of his that didn't have a natural inclination for how to rub on one of mine in just the right way to make me a grunting idiot with sole purpose—orgasm. If I wasn't getting one, I was giving one. We rutted. And we were so good at it. I wondered how we'd stay apart long enough to make this trip. We hadn't wanted to leave Esme's. That guesthouse would forever be our own personal aphrodisiac. If ever we got to a place where the fire ebbed, a place I didn't foresee ever reaching, but if ever we did, all we'd have to do was enter that guesthouse and we'd be fornicating like hyenas.

I loved Edward's flesh. I held his hand now. All we did was glance at one another, just a simple quick look and we were doing it in our minds. I was mentally orgasming right now just looking at his throat and the way his Adam's apple just bobbed. He looked at me again. The stewardess said something and I said, "yes," just to get rid of her, but I had no idea what she'd asked. She brought me a Sprite, a blanket and some peanuts. Edward and I had a good laugh, but then we were gazing at one another again, and he was kissing my knuckles, and now those lips, oh, I had known nothing about them before. What those lips could do, those teeth, and that tongue, that tongue, that tongue, I was crossing my legs and squeezing those worn horny sore bits between my legs right now. I spread the blanket, and his hand was immediately there. My hand was immediately there. We were covering one another's infrared heat sources. We were saying, "I got this. You hear me? I got this." Treasure hunters.

And let me tell you about the focus thing, the ADHD autism thing. As a lover…hands on learner and riveted, riveted to the task. You get an ADHD man's attention, and it is ridiculous what he will give in return.

Yeah, burning green eyes on a plane. Laptops at our feet, forgotten. I'm staring at his face, and it is my vista. I am hypnotized, really not here, he is my moment, my present, my reality. I have spent my life caring about everything else. Now there's only him.


	26. Chapter 26

Catwoman 26

Scenes from a honey-moon.

Scene One:

"This island is pre-fall. It's the garden of Eden," I'm saying lazily, my arms around his strong red-brown neck. We're snorkeling, well he is, and I'm floating on his back while he studies things.

"That was more like in Mesopotamia. Cradle of the earth," I correct. He's hardly paying attention to me for perhaps the first time in the history of our honeymoon, with his face in the water, and his thick rich hair moving on the glassy azure surface like burnished sea-weed, the tip of his snorkel poking out lime green beside his head.

When he sees something he feels I can't afford to miss, he motions for me to look, and I do, sometimes even pulling down the mask, sometimes mouthing the snorkel so he can take us both under. He swims like a merman. I am quite contented to let him do all the work while I feel his muscles move around underneath my bare stomach and my little white bikini. He is so perfect. I'm writing us a little song, and singing close to the back of his head, "I feel my pooty on your booty." And I give his ass a nice pooty bump. His thumb lifts out of the water to let me know he approves, and I love the way his shoulder flexes.

Then I see them walking along the shore. She waves, he has his hands clasped behind his back, but he's squinting our way. A social phobic is sensitive about these things. "Oh my gosh, there's that old couple walking by again. Oh…I thought they were coming out here."

He gives up his study of marine life then, and lifts his head out of the water to check out the oldies. I hear the gear pop out of his mouth and he raises the mask. "They're not coming over here, they'd have to get wet," he says.

"Why do people keep looking at us like we're just the cutest things! We're wretched! They act like honeymooners are dear little babies, or something. Hello, people, we're not on a nursery school field trip here, we're doing it! Like…really, really doing it. We're horrendous! We're doing the sixty-nine, and stuff."

Edward sucked water and started to cough. I had my hands all over his shoulders again as I beat on his back. They were the hunkiest shoulders. Not beefy, but hunky. There's a huge difference. He's just lean, perfect and tan. He's perfect.

"Please don't put that in a postcard," he said when he could breathe again.

"Hey Ang. Having a great time doing the sixty-nine," which led to a rap and me reaching below the water to grab Edward's junk.

And I didn't see the man and his daughter who happened to be snorkeling past. The father glared at me as he urged his daughter to keep on swimming.

"He doesn't think honeymooners are very cute," Edward offered breaking away from me to float on his back.

Scene Two:

"Naked Scrabble was my favorite," he said as he used his fork to clean his shish-ka-bob off of the skewer onto his bed of rice. We'd played naked Scrabble that afternoon, as in, I was the Scrabble board. And I was naked. Edward's idea.

"Until you lost the v-i-x." I am licking salsa off of my spoon. I am eating it by the spoonfuls, but trying to pretend I am only licking a little off the spoon.

He butters his roll with big strokes. "Does it strike you as odd that I lost the vix near your c-e-r-v-i-x?"

"That is what you were trying to spell." I put the spoon down and decided to cut into my big hunk of steak.

"And those last three letters, I should have run them in that crease I love so much where your pelvis meets your thigh. When we play tomorrow, I'm going to run things along your limbs. And your stomach, but…I'm going to draw it tonight on my computer. Baby I was winning. If you wouldn't have sat up…."

"Will you stop? You put three letters along my…slit, saying, 'oh look, it's like a letter tray in there. And oh, ha-ha, look I can stand my letters in these silky little folds.' And then they tumbled around the danger zone. That's all I need on my honeymoon is having to see the male nurse so he can retrieve a Scrabble piece out of my slit."

"Oh shit, don't say slit to me now while I'm trying to eat."

I smile big. "I've never called it a slit before now. Not once. But wait, wait, wait…are you grossed out or is this an ennuendo?" 

He looks around. "Not grossed out, baby, not even close. I mean, I'll get to thinking about that little slit and I won't want to stay here and eat, I'll want to go back to the room and…see the slit. Touch the slit. Lick the slit. And poke around in the slit, then put my dick in the slit." He lets out a big sigh and takes a massive bite of his roll.

I slump back in my chair. "Really? You see why we're not cute."

A man in a grass skirt stops at our table and juggles lit torches. We clap distractedly and lean forward to resume our discussion. "You act like you haven't had sex for six entire days, averaging six times a day. That's thirty-six times." I'm intense. "I should be able to say, 'slit,' without you acting like a horny, deprived teenager."

"I never was a horny deprived teenager. That came later when I became a 'man of faith.'" He quoted Angela.

I have to laugh a little now. "You should have fallen for a low down, no good whoring cheater like I did. It promoted celibacy like nothing else could."

"I wasn't as wise as you. I had to learn by self-induced suffering."

I smirked at him and dug into my delicious meal.

"Bella," he poked his fork around in the rice, "let's get this boxed."

"No, Edward. We're going to sit here for one meal. What is wrong with us?" I take a big bite of my meat.

"Bella," he leans forward and his face is so radiant, "I can't believe my wife is multi-orgasmic. Who knew? Nine times last night, baby. In a freakin' row. You were screaming. You make me feel like the god of Thunder."

"That would be Thor?" I say, happy he's proud of me. "In all fairness, your hotness, I had help, your fingers, your tongue, your man-meat." I take another bite of steak and chew happily. He's frozen now.

"Are you watching me chew?" I take a big drink of water and check my mouth for errant smears of food.

He flags the waitress when she starts to fly past. "Hey, Miss, can we get our meals boxed?"

"C'mon, you," he says standing and throwing some money on the table. To the busboy he hands another twenty, "Box this up and send it to cabin Crow's Nest. But give us an hour."

Then he takes my hand and we run out of the pavilion straight to our cabin.

Scene Three:

We're in the little galley kitchen and I'm wearing a pink-checked apron the house provided. But that's it, and he's wearing a tie (which includes him having chased me around, shouting, "Daddy's home," like his favorite actor Jack Nicholson), and nothing else. My hands are splayed on the counter and he's pumping into me from behind. I'm saying, oh, uh, mmm, and such, and he's getting ready to cum. When he does he shoves into me so hard I lay my face on the counter and breathe. We are slick with sweat, and he collapses on top of me, and we start to laugh. "Damn," he says. "Yeah," I agree. "That."

Scene Four:

I can hold Monopoly money under my breasts. Four five hundreds.

Scene Five:

We are in a hammock together, and he's telling me I should let him buy me things if he wants to. I'm telling him it's not that I didn't like the T-shirt, it's just that resort gift shops are the most expensive places to buy something like that, and he's saying he wants it to come from the place we stayed at. He wants to give me things from this time, this place, and why do I have to make such a big deal out of it? He can't keep all of my rules and dictums (what?) straight. He thinks he just met the chief, Charlie, and he's not going to live under this invisible code, and if he wants to buy his wife a T-shirt, he will, damn it.

Scene Six:

After spending a whole afternoon in bed, him begging me to get up, me refusing to speak to him, even when he tries to follow me into the bathroom, and also refusing to eat the food he brings me, even though I'm starving and I've secretly scarfed an old candy bar I had in my purse, I am finally letting him feed me bites of Sushi as he kneels by the bed with the little rectangular plate and the chopsticks and carefully puts the little pieces of food in my mouth. Then he kisses me all over, and I'm limp, but I don't resist, until he plunges his fingers inside of me, and I start to squirm a little, then begrudgingly give into the frenzy he's working inside of me and fling my arms around him and lose my mind as he brings me to many orgasms, and we do the big deed twice, fifteen minutes apart which is a new record for him.

After he's done being Thor, we lay in one another's arms and talk for hours. I don't want a marriage like my parent's had. I don't understand how two people have enough love to marry, then end up hating each other. I'm crying and making Edward promise he'll never give up on me, give up on us, and he vows he won't, and I vow I won't, and we'll always be honest, we'll always put one another first, we'll always desire one another and we won't let a week go by without making love, multiple times. "And we'll wake up in the morning and choose each other all over again, everyday, like Ben said," I say solemnly. "We will," Edward agrees. "We have." And he moves my hand to his penis and it's hard again. "I'm choosing you now," he whispers.

Scene Seven:

In the rain, he kneels before me, we're in the treeline, near the path that leads to the ocean. Rough water ahead, sea and sky merging into grays and blues, the surf crashes powerful and wild.

"I love you, I love you," I cry, bent over him, he's kneeling before me, his hair is wet, mine drips down onto him, our clothes saturated.

He's kissing me everywhere over my clothes the top of my suit, he's gripping my bottom with both hands, kissing me, breathing raggedly, my breasts, my neck, my face, my lips. "Mine," he says over and over, the water gathered on his thick brow, his lashes. "Mine."


	27. Chapter 27

Catwoman 26 (Christmas Part One)

On the flight home from our honeymoon, I was one huge rash. Edward was shaving three times a day. When he kissed me now, he had to pucker his lips way out, and give me a peck. We would both groan because my libido was unaffected by the rash, and there was nothing wrong with his and I mean nothing.

When he puckered at me for the twenty-seventh time, I had him hold it. I snapped a quick picture with my phone. He was rolling his eyes, but he held the pucker until I touched my lips to his. "For posterity," I told him, to explain the photo.

"It's no good unless I take one of you. The rash explains the kissy lips."

I sighed. I hadn't been allowing him to take endless photos since the red bloomed in all its gory glory. "Go ahead, but as the queen of this marriage, I hold veto power."

He snapped the picture, and it was just as ugly as I feared, but he snatched the phone possessively away and shoved it into his carry-on.

I wiggled around in my seat, sighing like a bitch because I just couldn't get enough of his sympathy.

"Didn't the aloe help? I put it evvverywhere," he said, readjusting my pillow behind me.

"I know," I said all dopey eyed. I kind of rubbed my thighs together, but a massive response of itching skin made me stop.

"I can't bring my girl home to Esme all puffy and swollen." Him.

"You said I looked okay. You're such a liar."

He laughed a bit. "You look adorable, like one of those big eyed koala bears."

"Newlyweds," I heard the old lady behind us say to her husband, again with the, 'ain't they just the cutest things.' In her honor, I reached across my husband's leg and grabbed his privates. "Shhhit," he croaked.

Esme and Carlisle were waiting for us at the airport. Esme held a sign that said, "Just married." With a big friendly grin and a wave, I leaned toward Edward and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if that sign said, Just efff-d."

"What?" he was incredulous. I made him blush.

"Oh you poor baby," Esme said, meaning me. "Carlisle will fix you up."

"A pusher in every port," I said to Edward.

Esme made us a wonderful lunch, chicken salad sandwiches on soft rolls. Carlisle had given me a cortisone shot. We sat around the table drinking French roast coffee with thick cream. Some expensive looking pastries were on a white china cake stand in the center of the table. Edward was telling them about the island, but I was noticing the kitchen itself, yes the beautiful fixtures, the craftsmanship from a well-designed kitchen, but the life. Two people who'd come together, made some vows and then spent a good chunk of the rest of their lives living in the reality of what they'd promised.

I didn't know how to be married. I was sure I'd mess it up. I was counting on Edward's forgiveness. I understood making a home, I'd done that around Charlie's bad eighties taste, but what did I want to do, let my home go? Move in to Edward's house…our house as he'd reminded me over and over…and then view my entire history through the frame of one of his big windows? Was that not odd? Or more odd still, the alternative, staying in my house, and viewing Edward's place, like the future that might have been, the one I hadn't had the balls to take.

Jasper lived over the bowling alley. I could hardly see him and Alice living there. And Alice considered my home her own. Jasper would be good to the place, working on its old bones, and Alice would give it a long overdue make-over. That era of my life was over. If I moved in with Edward, I'd know that. It would be a fresh start. And that terrified me, but not as much as staying stuck did.

I'd already made the leap, jumped the broom. I'd had more sex than many people have in a year. I was new. I made a big binding deal with this fabulous man who was still talking away oblivious to my soul searching. And I hadn't known a moment's regret.

"Edward," I interrupted. He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "Sorry to interrupt, but I just realized something…I want to live in your house."

"Not a bad decision for a wife to make," Carlisle teased, and Esme, the only one who seemed to understand that I was having some sort of revelation, swatted him on the arm.

"Alright," Edward said. "If you're sure."

"I am." I took a pastry then, calories be damned.

It was fun to watch the intervention to my little house, but the best part was that it was only refurbished, not transformed.

I was at the window now, sighing with delight, so glad I stepped back from it so it could grow. Alice came out of the front door right on cue and ran across the lawn to put a stack of letters in the mailbox and raise the flag on its side. They were probably her Christmas cards. And it was Christmas day. This made me laugh. Even still, it was like a victory moment. Like she raised the flag and claimed the place once for all. And I blessed her. She'd moved like she was cold. Later, they'd be coming over for Christmas dinner. The weatherman was predicting more snow.

Edward rested his chin on my shoulder and slid his long arms around my middle. "Spying on the neighbors, pet?"

I ran my hands over his forearms. They were just hairy enough to drive me crazy.

"I am."

"What are you thinking?" He watched my face reflected in the glass.

He asked me that a lot. I wondered if the flashcards hadn't always prepared him to understand human expression. And yet, he reminded me of the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz, so sure he didn't understand nuance and subtlety he overcompensated the way the Tin Man wouldn't step on the ants because he knew he didn't have a heart.

He got me. And when he didn't, it gave me the sense of space I still required so I could go off and hide. I tried not to do it often, as I knew my potential to detach, but I still needed those times of withdrawal. I was learning to give him the promise of return when I went away. That's all he required. "Come back to me when you're ready," he'd say.

He was busy with the cat project. We had an up and running shelter at a strip mall. The location turned out to be a boon for animal adoptions of all kinds, though the adult cats who'd gone feral, most often had to be put down.

Now we'd opened a second location in Port Angeles. The problem was coming under control.

As it did I waited for him to grow restless, but he merely shifted to a community center project. An abandoned school building needed asbestos removal to become a potential center. He was working on that.

"What I'm thinking," I said now, turning to look at his beautiful face so near, "is…how did this all happen so fast? One minute I'm living over there…my whole life…like flipping through a deck of cards, scenes of everything, all the drama of my parents, my whole life, you know? Growing up, my house was like the busiest place…no mom to complain, and Charlie, so eager to make it up to me, letting me have them all over…all the time…Charlie just glad I was living…. It was life. Emmett and Rose, Alice…Jasper…they had no idea how much they helped…made it more than bearable, made it good. All the laughter. Even Jacob…the baking. The sense of mission we had. We were changing our world…and here you come…and you really do change it. You come. You. All this time you're headed my way. I don't have to move or go anywhere because at the right time, you're coming." I turned in his arms now. "There's no one like you. No man comes close. Not for me. You're the standard by which all others…pale. You're the real thing. You're…my life."

He groaned and kissed me, moving against me, pressing me into the glass which made me gasp a little, because it was cold, but also because it felt amazing, and I didn't want to smudge it, and I didn't want Carlisle and Esme, due any minute to help us celebrate Christmas, pulling up and mistaking my ass flattened in the window for a Christmas wreath, but in a millisecond, I didn't care at all, I was lost in my husband's kiss, in the frantic response of his lips on mine, kisses all over my face, then back to my lips, and his hands moving and possessing me, firing me and melting me all at once.

A horn beeped from the driveway, and Edward broke the kiss, bird-dog alert as he looked through the glass over my head, big grin, another quick kiss on my lips. "Oh shit, your cheeks," he laughed, not even remotely sorry. "They're here."

So I welcomed Carlisle, Esme, and with a good deal of surprise, Edward's brother James. James was our Christmas surprise, it seemed. He'd had a bad break-up, and Esme had insisted he come along. She couldn't bear to think of him alone on Christmas. She was apologetic to me the moment we were alone, and I blew it off. "Of course you should have brought him!" I lied.

While Edward showed them around I put out the brunch he and I had prepared. We set it up in front of the big kitchen window where our table was laden with Christmas attire. I'd sewn a red and white tablecloth, and Alice had made twisted red and white candles which were lit brightly against the gray wooded background visible through the window. Edward and I had picked out some great Christmas plates. None of them matched, something he thought quite amazing, that I didn't like things to match, but they looked awesome all together, like a Christmas collage. Jasper liked to make things out of willow, evident through our front windows where life-sized deer he'd fashioned graced the lawn. My table held one of his decorations as the centerpiece, a reindeer with a full rack. Yeah, we'd laughed over this description. I only hoped Alice's candles wouldn't light Jasper's deer on fire before we ate this great meal.

Later today we were going to have a houseful. Rose was already here, staying with Alice. Aro was bringing Vickie, and Emmett was coming, and had been warned about Vickie, but he said it was cool, as had Rose who had already made amends to satisfy me only. Alice and Jasper, of course.

I jumped a little when James showed up at my back. "Need any help?"

I scooted to the refrigerator. "Nope. But help yourself to come coffee, or a cold drink." I had the coffee staying warm, and a party bucket holding a variety of drinks. Edward had also made egg nog. It was in our punch bowl, an object we hadn't foreseen actually getting to use when a distant aunt had sent it to him.

A burst of laughter came from downstairs where I knew Edward was enjoying showing his family our ridiculously huge Christmas tree. There were some funny stories connected to it, from cutting it down to trying to get it to stay upright in the stand. The first night it crashed to the ground, causing Edward to scream like a girl and go charging downstairs yelling, "You better run, fuckers."

"Marriage certainly agrees with you…Beautiful," James said, rolling an orange on the counter under his palm. "Bella…beautiful."

"Oh yeah." I frowned, opening a pomegranate on the cutting board. "Sorry about your break-up. Until Edward, I had my share of heartache." I pretended not to be annoyed.

He tossed the orange in the air. He missed catching it, obviously not nearly as co-ordinated as his brother, and it rolled near my feet. He nudged my leg as he lifted from retrieving it, tossing it again as he stared at me.

I was popping pomegranate seeds into a little bowl.

"Need some help?" Him.

I pushed half of the fruit at him, and he got in my circle, elbow grazing me as he fingered the little seeds. We talked about pomegranates then. He told me he never liked them, but he held up his red finger and said, "Look at that."

I had no idea if there was a double meaning there. It could have been perfectly innocent, but he creeped me out. I'd like to say I told him what he could do with his little red finger, but I kept thinking of Esme and her need to think she'd rescued the dear boy. And I thought of Edward, how ecstatic he was about this day, and how ecstatic I'd been about this day, our first Christmas. And I hoped to be married to Edward for the rest of my life, so getting off on a bad foot with James didn't seem an option.

Yes, there were flaws in my reasoning, but those would only show up later.

Now I sprinkled the seeds over my green salad, and pronounced this meal ready to be devoured. Everyone came upstairs. Edward told them he'd like to say a blessing. It was very sweet, the gratitude he expressed for our marriage, this day, and his family and friends to celebrate it with.

Esme was all teared up. She and Carlisle looked at me as if I was somehow connected to the baby in the manger, the one this day was really all about. Only I knew how utterly imperfect I really was, and none of them seemed to want to believe me, especially not Edward, and that's really all that mattered.

So we sat at the table and gorged ourselves on rich food. As if on cue, several deer ventured into our yard and grazed. "Ah, those aren't Jasper's," I said, and only Edward laughed. Being from the city, you would have thought we were witnessing actual polar bear activity, it was that rare for our guests to see wildlife. The best was when Esme said all giddy, "Oh look, that one has horns."

We laughed so hard, the deer heard us and hurried back to the North Pole.

After brunch we went for a quick ride through Forks where Edward showed them the strip mall and the shelter, the community center, the police station and courthouse, the diner, Emmett's store, Alice's new venture, a small bookstore and coffee shop, and the scant other points of interest.

Carlisle and Edward rode up front, while James, Esme and I rode in back. I had taken pains to try and get Esme in the middle, but she had to be let out at the last minute to go to the bathroom. I tried waiting outside with the door open, but Edward said, "Baby will you get in here and close that door it's freezing." So I did, watching the house so I could hop out and let her back in between my new brother-in-law and myself.

However when she came back out she whipped open the door and said, "Scoot, honey."

So not wanting to be weird, I did scoot. Right up to James. I was trying to keep some distance between us, but backseats not being what they used to be, we were squished. James put his arm up behind me, and that helped, and didn't help at all.

I told myself to stop being so uptight. "Yeah," my inner bitch chided, "embrace your abuser, Bella. That's it. Be a complete victim here."

I told that inner girl to shut up. We were actually having a nice time. Even though it had snowed the night before, Edward drove out of town a bit and showed them our church. We'd been there during the snowstorm, which really panned out to be a light dusting for Forks, the night before at the Christmas Eve service. Ben and Angela were going to stop by our house later. We had a present for Riley, and they wanted to see Edward's family again.

To be extra cute, Edward surprised me when he pulled onto the little logging road to show his family our favorite parking spot, though he presented it as the place where I went in high school to neck with the football team. This earned me a tightening of James' arm around my shoulders and a wet whispered, "Oooh, Bella." I smiled weakly at my husband's happy eyes in the rear view mirror. Thanks Edward.

Edward pulled cautiously near the overlook and everyone enjoyed the view, Carlisle so much that he braved the bitter wind to get out of the vehicle and take some pictures.

Once home, Alice and Jasper came over. They'd brought us a huge mysteriously wrapped white elephant gift. We were having that exchange later.

Slowly the others arrived. Vickie and Aro were first. Vickie wrapped herself closely to James and they whispered a good part of the day. Aro looked on patiently. He was such a dignified man. I wondered if he could hold on to that dignity with Vickie.

Emmett showed up mid-afternoon. Rose soon after. There was enough happiness in the room to deflect the awkwardness. Ben and Angela were life-savers. Riley's happiness over his new Wii brought a welcome reprieve. The men gravitated to a video game extravaganza.

Edward's smoked meats were done. He had carried in a turkey, which was cooling on the board, and now a pork loin. He sat this last thing on the counter, then came over to me and put his arms around me. I reached for the scruff that was already building. He laughed and nuzzled my hair with his face. "How you holding up?"

"I'm good. Having a blast."

"It's going well. It's definitely my favorite Christmas." His face was so relaxed and happy.

"Mine too," I realized. I had had some precious times with Charlie, and with Mom when I was little, but there was always the sadness, especially after she'd died. But today, there was a lightness. A newness.

"I am in love with my beautiful wife," he said simply.

"And I am in love with my gorgeous husband," I replied.

"That smells so good," Rose entered the kitchen. "Quit making out and get that meat carved."

We laughed and broke apart. "You should get Em in here."

"Would he like to help?" Edward.

"Yeah…but I know it's the man thing…you're the Alpha and all." Rose.

"Go get him," Edward said.

Em followed Rose in the room. I knew he loved video games, yet if anyone could get his attention, it was Rose.

He was glad to carve the meat. Edward worked on the pork, but Em did the turkey, taking the meat off the bone, even the wing and leg meat. Rose helped him arrange it beautifully on a big white platter. They didn't speak, they just did the task. When they were done, they stood at the sink and washed up. He looked at her then. She stood there looking back. The water was still running but they didn't seem to notice. Edward smiled at me and raised his brows. He didn't know what to do, so he pointed that he was going out. I gave him a nod.

I started to follow, but turned in the doorway. They were still just looking.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Christmas and after Part 2

The meal was delicious. "Teamwork, baby," Edward told me, patting my behind as we cleaned up.

Yeah the meal had hardly been awkward at all. Not even when Riley dumped a whole glass of chocolate milk on Vickie's mini-skirted lap. A mad rush for new clothes for the princess had ensued. Only Rose wore the same size. Fortunately all of the crickets in Forks were hibernating, or we would have heard them when I asked Rose if she would mind going across the street and getting Vickie some freaking clothes.

"I don't share underwear with anyone," she said, but we both knew what she was really saying, she wouldn't share clothes with anyone who had a sexually transmitted disease. And that's the beauty of old friendships, there's so much one doesn't have to explain.

"I've got plenty of underwear," I told Rose, "but she needs jeans or something."

If looks could kill.

Princess agreed to wear jeans, but wanted to go along with Rose to have a say in what was picked.

Across the street they went, Rose wearing Uggs, Vickie in Edward's big sweat pants and her high heeled boots. She fell down. I almost ran outside to help Vickie up as Rose stood watching her struggle. But Vickie was determined to get on her feet, and finally she did, and they made their way into my old house.

I was really nervous. They were gone a long time.

I finally popped a potato chip in my mouth, grabbed the most recent filled trash bag, and went outside. I shoved the bag of trash in the can next to the house, then took off across the road. The door is never locked so I walked in. Rose was sitting next to Vickie on the couch. They were in intense conversation.

They both looked at me with wide guilty eyes.

"I…is everything okay?" I walked in and closed the door. I moved toward a chair, but just knelt one knee on the arm of it.

Rose cleared her throat. "Yeah. She slept with Emmett."

"Thanks a lot," Vickie scolded Rose.

"I won't say anything," I said, then felt stupid for saying it. I'd probably tell Edward.

"I told her, I was just having a fling. My sights are set higher. He'll never leave this town," Vickie said, shifting on the sofa.

"You don't know a thing about Emmett. He planned to leave Forks when we were married. He only bought the hardware store as an investment." Rose was flushed red with telling this. I wondered why she had. I thought Vickie had moved on, if not to Aro, to James? But then I'd also seen James be all cuddly with Tanya at my wedding. He evidently got around. Looking at Esme and Carlisle it was hard to believe he was so…active. I mean, they had apparently modeled committed love. And he was a little old to be acting so immature.

"What's happening between the two of you?" Vickie asked Rose. She stood and pulled off Edward's pants, shaking out a pair of jeans on the couch beside her, then stepping into them. She had quite the lower half, I must say, all smooth and round. I felt a quick despair just looking at her. What had Edward ever seen in me? I had nice hips, I think, but I couldn't hold a candle to this hooker.

Rose snorted. "I don't need your advice concerning Emmett. You had a fling. I'm trying to be all 2011 about it, but damn…."

"Did you expect him to be celibate? He's not Edward. I mean, why would he be?" She said this with such distaste. She zipped and buttoned the jeans, which looked spectacular on her, then sat to put her ridiculous boots back on.

"What are you, some kind of man shredder? Now you're with Aro, and you've been cozy with James all damn day…."

"Rose," I said, pretending to be a little shocked, but she'd asked the question inquiring minds really wanted to know, starting with me.

Vickie zipped one boot. "First of all, after you attacked me, Emmett lost his nerve and broke up with me. I made the mistake of actually liking the guy. It hurt, but now I realize you did me a favor. It never would have worked out."

Rose looked taken aback. Vickie just admitted she'd been hurt. That was…kind of humble. It made me hopeful for her. Apparently there was more to her than I realized.

But then she kept talking, "In truth, I never give up my independence. Girls like you…like you both…you want to get your hooks in right away…get all territorial. I never make demands. I have my say. Because I'm only speaking my mind, I'm not being all crazy and hysterical. If a man goes his way, I let him. I play it loose. I'm not out to latch onto anyone who doesn't want me. And if I see someone else…or someone better…to put it in terms you girls will understand, I have the freedom to let it happen. So I can't really fault a guy for doing what I'm doing myself.

And she kept going, "There's lots of attractive people out there. Women miss the smorgasboard because they're worried about being too ugly, too old, too alone. It's that worry that makes them all crazy. Reality is-we weren't meant to have all of our needs met by just one person. Make peace with that and the world is your oyster."

"Does Aro know this?" I asked.

"Aro knows me. He takes me anyway he can get me." She pulled on her top and smoothed it over her tight stomach.

"Oh, he's the desperate woman you refuse to be." Rose.

Vickie zipped the second boot. She held her long legs out straight and seemed satisfied.

"Aro is anything but desperate. He's selective. And a damn fine businessman. He never enters a deal that isn't mutually beneficial." Vickie stands and dusts off her backside like the old couch has too many dust mites.

"I don't buy it," Rose. "A whore is a whore is a whore."

"Rose…," I feebly attempt to interject.

Vickie puts her hands on her hips, and looks down on Rose, without any visible fear. "Don't start. You've hurt so many people with your dishonesty. At least I'm upfront about what I believe. You don't even know what you believe. You're confused. You want to be the big liberal woman, and you've never had the guts to break with him. You've kept him in your back pocket just in case your big girl life blows up in your scared little face."

I maneuvered myself behind Rose so I could put my hands on her shoulders and hopefully intersect whatever she was going to do to Vickie's face.

Vickie laughed. "Relax. We both know he'll crawl back to you. He's as lost as they come. We only did it a couple of times, but those kind are always so guilt-ridden when it's over. He's a really good guy. But he's no player. How long are you going to keep lying to him. To yourself?"

"I refuse to take advice from someone who has no morals," Rose through her teeth. "You don't know me, so don't pretend you do." Angry tears shone in Rose's eyes.

Vickie bent at the waist and flipped her hair then stood upright, face flushed, running her hands through the thick red tresses. "I know more about you than you realize. You're practically all he talks about." She is still confidently fingering her hair. She smiles. "Yeah, Merry Christmas. Now go get him." Her confident heels clicked on the floor as she reached the door. She smirked at us.

"Going for a three-way underneath the Christmas tree?" Rose asked all fake sweet.

Vickie laughed then, and pointed a red fingernail at Rose. "He misses that…your smart-ass mouth." She smiled and let herself out.

Rose threw a throw pillow at the closed door. "That bitch! She's been all over my Emmie. Mine. We'd only been with each other. We used to promise…just each other…to the grave. All mine. And now…every time we're together, he's going to be thinking about that red-headed bitch!"

I sat next to her and put my arm around her. It was dicey. She wasn't a big hugger.

"Rose, that's not true. You've instilled a lot of guilt in that man. Even her double D's couldn't knock it out of him."

She laughed a little then. "Shut-up, Bella."

"Yeah, I know. Tell me Edward was never with her. Tell me he wasn't."

"I thought he told you he wasn't."

"He did, but…you know she was flashing him all the time, rubbing on him." I sat up straight, "What if it's a Bill Clinton?"

"Stop." She pulled several Kleenex from the box on the coffee table. "You're assuming. Believe your husband. Don't let that bitch come between you. It's Christmas Day. Holy hell." She did a big blow. "She's right. I am a liar. But she's so damn wrong. I have told Emmett I made a mistake. He thanked me for admitting it. I asked him if he wanted to try again, you know, go slow, date now and then. Communicate." Another blow. Some sniffing. "He said…he didn't know. We do communicate…but it's so empty. It's almost more painful than the silence. Then before Christmas he said he didn't know if he could continue to hear from me. It didn't seem like our relationship was going anywhere and he's too hurt to just let it be a friendship. And…and I asked him…how could we move forward…what did he want to do? And he said…he had a business to run, and he couldn't play games. And I said I wasn't playing games, I didn't know what to do. And he said I still wanted to keep my hand in the cookie jar. And I said what mother-fucking cookie jar? And he hung up on me. And then…when I saw him today…I knew that whatever I needed to do…I would do it. And then I have to hear about his…adultery!"

"Little extreme there. You were broken up when they did the fornicating. You broke it off."

"No. He broke it off. I'm tired of being the bad guy. It was him. I told him if he went through with buying the store we were finished. No marriage. And he did. He put his family's demands before us. Case closed." She was wiping under her eyes now.

"He bought the store because he didn't see another way. But he never planned to stay here and run it. That came after the break up," I reminded her. "We all knew about the store. We grew up knowing it would be his."

"But see, that's the big lie. He didn't want that store. You have no idea how many times I had to hear it…all through high school, and college. You have no idea. I felt like I needed to save us, get a good job so he could figure out what he really wanted to do. I kept my end. I knew I didn't want to stay in Forks. I love the city."

"But you went there for Alice."

"At first. I love my life there. I'm not willing to give it up. But…for him…I know we're not supposed to…"

"To what? Not supposed to compromise? God forbid we should really try to live for someone besides ourselves. Do you want a relationship with Emmett or not? What do you want? If you don't know, what does he have to work with?"

"I want Emmett. And I want the city. I want to keep my job. That's what I want."

"Equally? You want all that without a willingness to compromise?"

"That was always our plan. I just want the plan."

"Isn't that the plan that caused you to lose him?"

"Yes, but…"

"No buts."

"He took on all that debt so his father could retire. How is that fair?"

"Rose, you have to face how it is with Emmett. He owns that store and he's making a real go of it."

"That's because he practically lives there. When he's not screwing Vickie, that is. Only goes to show he has to be there to protect his investment. That's how business works, Bella."

"I've got it Rose. I've watched the progress, unlike you. I've seen him be great at what he does. But Emmett's not a plan, he's a human being. Do you want the plan, or do you want the man?"

"I…I want Emmett."

"If you want Emmett, that has to be first. Go for it."

Later I was telling Edward about that conversation. We were taking the many pillows off the bed, pillows he didn't understand that we needed. And he wasn't allowed to just toss them on the floor, he had to put them in the bedroom chair which he couldn't do right now because Boots was on the chair. He was trying to get her out of it, but she was hanging on with her claws buried in the nice brocade upholstery.

"You really told her that?" he asked, pillows crammed under his arm as he moved the cat around trying to get her claws free.

"Yes. That's why they're together right now, talking it over." I threw one of the pillows I held at him, making him drop one of the three he held while still struggling with the cat.

He looked at me for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "I doubt they're talking," he said.

"What? Like you'd know." I put my pillows on the desk near my side of the bed and switched on the fan he had to have on all year long even though it was twenty-eight degrees outside.

"I know about these things. They're done talking. She needed a grand gesture, something like nakedness and red hot sex should do it." He swatted the cat with a pillow and she didn't move.

"What are you now, the love doctor?" I went to the chair and told Boots to get out, which she did immediately. It amazed and annoyed him that they spoke perfect English. But only with me.

He dumped his pillows and pulled me close, putting his arms around me. "You tell me." He kissed me below the ear. "Let's play doctor," he whispered.

"I have a boil," I said and started to laugh hysterically because I was really tired.

"Killing the mood," he said, his tight hold slacking.

I broke free and jumped on the bed. The headboard hit the wall.

He followed, tackling my around the waist. We kissed for a few minutes, really getting into it. I loved his lips. When he kissed me I felt transported. "You wore that apron," he said, "and drove me crazy all day." He rubbed up and down my leg.

"It had reindeer on it," I reasoned.

"All I could think of was our honeymoon, the pink apron. All other aprons funnel into that memory," he said, his kisses getting reckless and very wet.

I laughed some more. "Oh my, your family are going to think we're sex maniacs," I said as he flipped me over and bit my shoulders.

"Esme wants some grandbabies," he panted. "She's looking at the calendar right now, estimating the birth."

I thought of James, two doors down, and the sexy feelings left me instantly. I rolled over under Edward's ministrations. "Edward, I need to talk with you about James. He's a weirdo."

Edward looked stung. "What happened?"

"What's the deal with you and him?"

"He's Esme's son. She was only fifteen. My mom was his legal guardian. Esme needed time to grow up. Eventually he went to live with Esme and Carlisle. You know most of this. I gravitated their way, too. So James and I…we're family. I call him the normal one. It's our shtick."

I loved Edward's many expressions. Sometimes I got so lost in watching him speak I lost track of what we were saying. That almost happened now he looked so handsome and relaxed. I knew he'd had a great day, and I didn't want to take anything away from it. I wished I'd chosen a better word than, 'weirdo.' I ran my fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes. He had such a pure beauty. I traced over his brows. "Is James' father around?"

Edward sighed. "Okay, this is where it gets really white trash, so listen closely. I should have told you this already, but really, I just didn't want to get into it. James' father is my father's brother. And neither of us has met our fathers. Mine ran off when I was a baby. His was around long enough to get to Esme, consensually, but illegally. Then he ran off. Neither James nor I have met our fathers. Carlisle is our father figure. Aro plays a close second. With me, not James. An aside, my mother always felt responsible for bringing the lowdown brothers into our lives. Ironic as James and I wouldn't be here without their donation, but…Mom felt a perpetual guilt toward Esme. It was convoluted."

I kept running my fingers through his hair, though he seemed to almost have a sense of humor about it. I could tell it was all water under the bridge.

"Damn," I said. "So, what is James' relationship with Aro? I mean, Aro is clearly interested in Vickie, and then James…it's still very convoluted. Tanya and James. Aro and Vickie. Vickie and James? It's like a big love-in." And I fleetingly wondered again where he'd been in all of it, even though he'd assured me it hadn't been sexual with him and Vickie or him and Tanya. I could hear Rose telling me to knock it off, but it was a kinky mess.

"Yeah, James and Vickie…a history there. She'd say he's her brother, but…nah. He's not her brother. That's an old deal. It was a mess. An old wound, an old fight amongst me and James. I was the protector, remember. So if I said no, he went for it. I knew they were too much alike. Emmett would be great for Vickie, but she'd go right through him. She has, in fact. Aro would be good, but I worry for him, man. He's sensible though. She needs the stability if he can take it. I don't know."

"Okay, but Vickie and James…is it still happening? I mean, I don't like her. I just don't want to think of her in my life. I know that's terrible, but she's hurtful. I thought you could get her out, but I saw today, it's more complicated. Aro. James. She's so entrenched. And if she thinks this is her family…I don't know how it's going to work. I think the only way through right now is to not make an issue of it. But if I had children…I wouldn't want her here. She's not here in a good way. She's here…hunting. I don't mean to be horrible after our beautiful day, but this was the first time I saw them all together and kind of viewed the tribal dynamic, I guess. She and Emmett sleeping together. I've got Rose to think of. Emmett's my friend too, and she's an old girlfriend now. I know how creepy that is."

"You're right. I'm aware. A change needs to be made. I have spoken with her, but she's moved on to Aro and I got stuck again. I didn't want to refuse Aro because he's important to me. But no one is more important than you. Case closed. Whatever you need is what I need."

I kissed him. "See…that's why I don't want to force anything. You're so damn good to me. It makes me want to be sure and be your friend, first. I know it's a dicey thing. It's delicate."

"Yeah, thanks. But I'll keep working on it."

"Thank you." More kissing. I loved his face, just looking at him, running my fingers over his features.

"This was my best Christmas," I told him.

"Me too," he said.

"So, Aro and Vickie went to the motel and they fly out in the morning?" I said.

"Yeah. Aro will be back in a couple of weeks, but that's it from Vickie for a while. I already told her she can't just drop in. And the office should be ready by the end of January, so I can keep business out of the house altogether and that will take a lot of this pressure off of us. They can come there, and our private lives will stay private. Well, except for Alice," he smirked.

"She's doing pretty good. She's hardly over."

He rolled his eyes, but then he laughed. "She grows on you, that's for sure. It's all good." He's rubbing up and down my arm. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"What you said about James…you're not telling me something."

"Those darn flashcards," I laughed, wishing we could drop it. Maybe we could work on the Vickie problem, but James was Esme's son.

"It's just…he's a little, I don't know. Do you care about him? I mean, you two don't seem super close. I was just wondering what I was looking at."

He wasn't lighthearted now. His lips were stacked in a way that made me want to lick them, but there was tension there.

"He's my brother. Or the closest thing I'll have to one. I think most of it's my fault. I call him the normal one, but the truth? I'm the good son. I took the lion's share of everyone's attention. They were so busy applauding me for the things that came natural to him…I can't blame him for hating my guts. When I'm around him…I hate my own guts. I'm a self-righteous prig around him. You know how you meet someone who brings out your worst, and you don't like yourself around them? That's how he is for me." His eyes were shiny. I had done that which I hoped not to do. I had ruined the happiness of the day.

"Wow. I wasn't expecting all of that."

"Yeah. I don't think I've ever summed it up before. But that's it." He smiled weakly. "I'm a shit."

"No. I see you trying with him. I could tell there was something." I realized I could not tell him my own experiences with James. I knew that much as I didn't take to him, I'd have to leave it where it was while Edward worked it out.

"Yeah. But he's here. Another break up. I was headed down the same road until I found my faith in someone bigger than my own ideas. I know he has pain inside. He doesn't trust people, he doesn't love very well, or at all from what I can see. But he's needy and trying to repel everyone around him, and succeeding."

"Wow, for an autistic boy your understanding of others sure beats me."

He laughed. "I've messed up with him so many times, I'm finally figuring some things out."

"What do you want with him? I mean, what do you hope happens with you two?"

"Wow. Good question. I thought I was the doctor."

"I just wondered."

"I'd like to see him figure out some things. Like love. I'd like to see him love someone. And be changed by loving someone. I'd like to see him be a great dad someday, and be good to Esme, and be someone you could trust with your friendship. I'd like to see him do work he enjoyed because it helped people. I'd like to see him approach people differently, as if they mattered to him. I don't know if I'm saying it right. I want him to get free of himself. I'd like to go to church with him. I'd like us to be brothers."

I rolled onto him then, it wasn't organized, and probably took him by surprise, I know it did me, because I felt so much love for him, so much joy because he was my husband. "You are the finest person I have ever met," I told him, my hands on his face. "And I love you so much, I'm ridiculous. How did you come to me? How?"

He pulled me into one of his hugs. I felt my ribs guarding my organs from the onslaught, but it made me joyful, it made me soar. And if I could have breathed, I would have laughed.

New Year's Eve was spent at church. Port Angeles had a First Night celebration that we were seeking to emulate here in this humble rural church. The idea was to set up a circus atmosphere and invite the community. We had a variety of booths for families and children. There was Alice's dress up booth. She had costumes for the children and adults to dress up in, and a big gilded mirror Em and Jasper had moved in so they could view themselves. Every thirty minutes she, Rose and I would do a different scene from Alice in Wonderland. We had three acts. I often couldn't remember my lines so I ad-libbed a lot. Alice, a purist, would usually glare at me, or say enough to get me back on track. Edward took lots of pictures, leading all applause.

Jasper and Emmett watched over bird house construction and painting. I never saw Emmett sweat so much. Most of the kids had parents on hand willing to do most of the grunt work. Em was great with people, and Jasper inspired some fantastic neon paint jobs on the houses.

Edward had video set up showing a number of the local animals one could adopt at our two pet shelters. He'd also set up a fish pond, stocked with every cheesy imported gift to be found online, and pop o shot. Two news games he'd purchased and donated to the church gym.

There was all kinds of food, music, and hoopla. We counted down the New Year, and Edward kissed me while I wore my red wig and my Mad Hatter outfit. I whispered, "Bet ya thought I was Vickie." But he didn't think it was funny.

By the time we got home, 2012 was two hours old. We settled into our bed exhausted but wired. We'd had a blast. "I've been a lot of places on New Year's," he told me, "but none as crazy and alive as where we were tonight."

We rarely wore clothes to bed. Tonight was no exception. We were wrapped in one another's arms. "Hey, we need to consummate…2012," he said, running his soft lips up and down my neck until I squealed.

I faced him and threw my leg over him, taking his hard member and aligning it between my thighs. He pushed in just enough to make us both groan. "You're going to kill me," he said, breathing so deliciously hard in my ear. I felt his strength all around me, his overwhelming beauty and protection.

"Push into me," I ordered.

"Get this leg up," he said, all kinds of bossy.

I let him hike my leg to his waist. He pushed in deeper. The satisfaction that brought curled my toes. "Oh god," I groaned.

He pulled back and thrust in again.

"Don't pull all the way out," I begged, "stay in."

He pulled back a little and pushed in again. I rambled about how good it felt. His breath sounded in my ear. I could feel the heat we were generating even with the fan.

"Oh I love you." He kissed me with manic enthusiasm. He could kiss like no one else, with utter abandon. He kissed with his whole body. I sounded like a whimpering simpleton.

He told me he loved me over and over. He squeezed my breast, and I hung my head partly off the bed. My legs were open and he lay between them, and he was up on one elbow, squeezing one breast so hard, then the other. He knew just how hard to do it. And I was turning my head side to side, delirious. He was in me the whole time, then he'd start working it again, in and nearly out, then back in.

I had no words, just grunts and sounds, like parts of words, then oh, and love, and kisses, and my open mouth everywhere, dragging over salty skin. Back to kissing, love, and exploding finales, death, and drifting in the slow flow of sensation, languid landing, wrapped in one another still, and so complete, so loved.

"Happy New Year," he said.

"Oh yeah."

That morning:

"What if sometime we made a baby?" he said, his voice tired and sated with love.

I bolted up. "Really?"

He was suddenly awake. "You don't sound happy."

"No…not happy. Not unhappy. Just…not."

"Not what?" Him.

"I don't know. We just got married."

"Last year," he pointed out.

"Are you ever satisfied?" Me, half-kidding. Only half.

"Yeah. That's why I'm open. I'm satisfied."

"Way to twist my words all up."

"What? I thought women were all about the ticking clock."

"Then you're the woman." Me.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. If we get blessed that way, great. If not, great."

"But you're on the pill."

"Yes."

"So it's not likely."

"I want a year," I said. "A year to not be fat. A year to get to know my husband. A year to not be sick, but be self-indulgent and a year to have lots of practice sex for when we do the big one."

He laughed then. "As usual, you make sense." We kissed, so sweet, and not so sweet. Potentially not sweet at all.

"Then let's practice," I said.

And we did. And we were nearly perfect.


	29. Chapter 29

Catwoman 29

I was so proud of Edward, watching him hold the class's easy interest as he lectured up front of the packed stadium seating. He had an easy manner, was attentive to their questions. Of course the girls had a few things to say about him. I had overheard more than one of them comment on how 'hot' he was. I could tell them things about his hotness.

Often while speaking, he would look up at me where I sat in the back row twirling a strand of my hair. Once I pointed to my boob, subtly pointed, and he smiled really big and coughed into his fist, but more about that later.

He'd introduced me at the beginning of the lecture, called me his lovely wife. Many of the students were already familiar with me from the library. There was a twinkle in his eye when our gazes touched, no matter how briefly, and a bit of sadness, too.

We'd started our morning on a high. I'd given him a 'spa treatment' so he'd look extra good for his first day at school. Like he needed that. The whole thing included a hot shower, then a rub down on the bed with my special lotion. My goal was to make him limp when I was done with him. But there was such a hard tension in his muscles, I ended up really working.

After commenting on how tense he seemed for the fifth time, he admitted, "I've been resisting Peter's invitation to lecture for some time."

I stopped for a minute, noticing how my hands ached. "Why?"

"Since my mess up, large crowds un-nerve me." He still had his eyes closed, but I could feel the tension in him as if his admission lobbed a grenade between us.

I admit I hadn't realized anything scared him. I even thought he was teasing. I started to knead his shoulders again. "Seriously?"

"Most of what I do entails addressing smaller groups. Anything too large is generally handled by Aro."

"I had no idea." I was doing Karate chops all along his back.

"At one time small groups…terrifying. I've pretty well conquered that, but large groups still make me sweat."

"Terrifying?"

He didn't answer right away. I put more lotion on my weary hands and rubbed them together, then rubbed the length of one of his arms.

"I know all the tricks. I…saw a therapist about it. I mean…I was already in therapy after the suicide attempt."

I sobered up then. He wasn't going to let this go easily. "What will make it better?" I asked, loving the way the lotion teased the hair on his forearm into submission.

"Exposure. The more I avoid the worse it gets." He turned his head so I couldn't see his face.

I walked around him and started on the other arm. "Alright. Worse case scenario you have to excuse yourself while you have a freak out in the john. Make sure it's the men's." I laughed, but he didn't join in.

"Not going to happen," he told me. His voice didn't have its usual easy tone, even though I was kneading his shoulders again.

I sat on the bed and said, "Open your eyes."

He looked at me, no humor, just serious beauty, and some kind of…guilt? His uncertainty brought out the protective side in me. I knew he didn't want that. He needed to be able to tell me these kinds of things without me thinking I could fix it.

I resorted to my comfort blanket—humor. "Hey, it'll be okay. I'll be looking at you picturing YOU naked."

He did laugh a little. "If I return the favor I'll forget my lecture."

"Oh, put a focus word on my right boob. If you get stuck, I'll point to the boob."

"Nipple…isn't in my lecture series. Not overtly." He rolled over now and pulled me half way on top of him.

"But covertly?" I asked pathetically.

"Always," and he kissed me a few times before latching on and breathing in which was a signal that he was going in for the kill…the nipple.

Sex was a great alternative to facing reality. But when that little make out session ebbed I had another inspiration, "If you get anxious, do a thumbs up and I'll cut a bitch. That'll create the diversion you'll need to get out of the room."

He laughed a little, but I could see the discussion had run its course. "Hey Bella…it's probably more than the audience. It…I don't want to fail in front of you." He rubbed his finger over my cheeks, even though they were rash free due to his recent shave.

I pulled away a bit. "Are you serious?"

He nodded, his gaze intense from way more than the kissing.

I sat up, crossing my legs. "We have a different idea of failure, then."

"Don't…say something that will make it worse."

"Excuse me?" That hurt. I was going out of my way to say the right thing, I was just joking.

"Don't be wonderful." He smiled, weakly.

"Okay. That's usually not a problem for me. But you're kind of full of shit." He was making me mad. I didn't know why, I didn't care.

He hopped up then. I was watching his body move as he went to the drawer for boxers. He grabbed a pair out of the top drawer and stepped into them. They were the gray ones I loved. No matter. He'd hurt my feelings. He was digging for socks now.

I stood too, tightening the towel around me as I marched to my dresser for underthings. I was full of words now, "When someone doing something they're actually very uncomfortable doing to help a classroom of students who think he has the map to the holy grail, I don't call that a fail." I riffed through my drawer to find my pink lace bra and sort of matching pink and gray panties. I threw the towel over a chair and put the underwear on first, and was angrily snapping the bra when he stepped in front of me and pulled my hands away. He took over with the bra, then moved his hands up on my shoulders, straightened my hair, and lifted my chin so I had to look at him.

"You've never seen me…there were years. I'm…I almost feel like you bought into a myth. There's been times I want to ask…you do realize I'm very flawed? Bella, what if our child experiences…if it is a more delicate immune system…." His eyes were shiny, and deeply troubled.

I moved my arms so he had to drop his. Then I gripped the biceps I'd just greased up. "If fear for our future child…children is what you're dealing with THIS morning…then you've just become the poster child for the futility of worrying. Today is a great day. I get to have YOU with me on the ride to work. I get to hear YOU lecture, which means I get to look at you, unapologetically, for forty-five minutes."

"Twenty-five," he countered. "Don't make it worse than it is."

"And then WE get to eat lunch together, and you're going to hang in the library and shoot me hot looks, and I'm going to shoot them back, and bend over my desk all inappropriately, hiking up my skirt for the rest of the afternoon. Do you know how eager I am? You have taken an ordinary day, if there is such a thing…no there isn't such a thing…especially not since I married YOU, but you've taken this day and made it…exciting."

I laid a bunch of kisses on him then, and the boobs, and now he was all eager, squeezing my lungs until they were ready to pop. "We have to talk about this," he whispered.

"Talk about what? How great our kid will be? If we have a kid, it will be a great kid. It'll be a little bit of both of us, and some of our weird relatives maybe, and then some of itself. Don't you dare dread…dread Edward…anything about this child we might make together. Do you realize that our child may show us just a crumb of…Charlie…or your mom? Do you realize all the possibilities that kid could bring us?"

"You're a genius," he whispered, cupping my cheek. He looked serious. He was really scaring me.

"No. I'm…wonderful. Just like you told me not to be."

So a couple of hours later I was starring at him like I was Gidget and he was Moon-doggie. The Q and A was dragging, but I really think they wanted to keep looking at him, or even just hear his fluid, sexy voice. I did. His hair, longish on top, a little scraggly over the ears. He had the trifecta of deep green eyes, perfect nose, beautiful lips. But then there was the trifecta of chin, jaw, neck. Not to mention the brows, the sideburns, his beautiful ears. Skin, oh yes. Facial hair, and yes. And a deep insecurity I'd had no idea about. It wasn't just speaking in front of crowds, he'd lick that, he was licking it now. It was failure. In front of me. He thought I didn't see his flaws. And I didn't.

He'd told them every job had a uniform, and they had to earn the privilege not to wear it. If they wanted to blow off the rules, they had to be able to pay the price. There was always a price. You could hear a pin drop. We were hypnotized.

Finally Peter took over and called an end to the class. He was thanking Edward, shaking his hand, thunking his back in that two-handed move guys do. He even thanked me for the loan and I said, anytime, but I didn't mean it. However, I did know Edward was a kick-ass addition to the lecture docket for the business program.

When the final straggling line of girls finished asking their innocuous questions, my husband and I reconnected and were headed to an on-campus lunch.

"They loved you," I said, my arm linked through his as we walked swiftly to the coffee shop.

He heaved a big sigh. "Glad it's over," he said.

"No," I insisted, "they lurved you. Like a lot." That was my rendition of college speak.

"Well…I've still got it." He laughed then as I pinched him. "Seriously, that kind of thing, the female thing, used to frustrate me so much. I was so glad to be married and have my knock-out wife there in the room." He drew closer and said, "And the boob-point was great."

"Yeah? I was sending the vibes. I was reminding you of the massage…"

"You don't have to remind me, my balls are sliding around down there…in some kind of pink herbal smelling…I think that's what was drawing the girls…and maybe a couple of the guys."

"It's not a draw…it's a repellant. I had it mixed special. I don't share my man with anyone."

He laughed, then he said, "I mean it though, I got ahead of it today."

"Yeah, and my repellent sucks. Those bitches hated me."

He laughed, but now I was a little insecure. He was too good for the life he was leading. He was fantastic. He was amazing. He had things to say, so much to give. I remembered Vickie's meltdown that he would choose Forks. Tanya. Even Aro. My god, Esme and Carlisle—but they just wanted him alive, and me, his hick girlfriend seemed to help. This was such a fluke, and I was the meat of the fluke. Yes he loved me, no doubt, but I was Miss Sunshine up his ass encouraging him to underachieve, to hide. He was scared of addressing a class in Forks, when he was meant to be heard in big places. Oh hells bells. He was scared because he knew he was good. He didn't want to let it loose. Once he did he'd have to grow as big as he was supposed to be. That's why he'd fail me. He'd have to leave me.

"…but I thought they listened today, don't you?" he was saying, all kinds of ridiculous.

"Yes. Seriously, it was great information." Like astounding. He'd been everywhere. He'd done everything. And he was being insecure again. I couldn't believe it. He was an intelligent man. He knew how good his lecture had been.

"I don't think you see yourself clearly," I mumbled, just before a handful of students accosted us…well Edward. I stood there watching my lunch hour dwindle as they went over points he'd made. I was so proud of him, and trying not to resent their intrusion on my 'great' day.

When we were finally enroute to the cafeteria again he was rambling, but I was a million miles away. Finally I started to listen, "…you knocked me on my ass the moment I saw you. I mean…you had your own ideas. I loved it. I thought, this girl is beautiful AND smart. It can't get better than that. And you're just who you are. It was right there. That pink slip."

I can't hear these things enough. "Who knew being a bitch and taking off my skirt could snag me such a delectable husband. I should write a book."

We laughed over that. Not the book, but the philosophy behind it. "Snagging a Hottie for Dummies," or something."

Why had we been talking about me? He was insecure alright, afraid I'd figure out what was really going on. When we were seated with our food, a couple of students shyly approached out table to speak with Edward. Minutes ticked by, and I couldn't stop watching him. He was so alive with them. He always was, but he was having fun, and he was so polished. What was I thinking to sign him up for Forks?

Edward was finally opening the plastic container to his Panini. "Peter wants me to consider accompanying him on a lecture circuit. He's taking a sabbatical next semester, and he's working on his book. He wants us to team up for some work he owes several colleagues, and he wants to use my organizational experiences for a part of his work. It's very time consuming and exhausting to think about. He wants me to co-write, actually. I told him it's ridiculous as we're talking global. Before I met you, of course, I considered it, but there's no way…."

"Hold on," I was shoving the huge bite of my turkey sandwich that wouldn't fit in my mouth in with my fingers. "This sounds better than my book." What the f…..?

He's confused for a minute, "Oh, the Hottie book. I think I liked your idea better."

A kind of fear was building inside of me. It was a vague false floor feeling. Like the false floor had dropped a notch and I'd lost my footing.

"Like I'd ever do that. I mean…hey here's a novel idea, you could take a leave…"

"Librarians don't take a leave. I did some of that when my father died. That's what librarians leave for." I put my sandwich down.

He laughed. More students stopped. Okay, these were vanity questions. Seriously? Were they all blond girls with tiny butts?

When we were finally alone and I had two minutes, "Why are you asking me to leave my job? Career, I mean?"

"Huh? No…I mean take a leave and go with me. What if we did? Crazy, huh? I would never. Not without you."

I close my sandwich box. I smash the lid a bit. "What did you tell Peter?"

He laughed again. Just laughing all over the place. "I told him…hell no. No way I'd put all those miles between myself and Bella. I didn't get married to…if you could go with me…we never had much of a honeymoon."

I knew he'd outgrow Forks. It had barely taken him a year.


	30. Chapter 30

Catwoman 30

Our room in Paris looked out onto a landscaped courtyard. I sat on a white loveseat, legs extended, feet crossed on a black coffee table facing a white fireplace with a large silver framed mirror above it. I was in Paris. I whispered, "Shit."

I'd just finished breakfast with Edward. Croissants and fresh fruit. Coffee. "Shit," I whispered again. It was so good, much better croissants than those ones in a can.

Before the breakfast, well, we had each other in two celebratory rounds. To celebrate Paris. Surely oral sex started here. I don't think Americans heard about it until the nineties. Then Bill and Monica made it a commercial success, and soon, sex was redefined.

So we were working on our own little definitions and memories. Sex on a white leather barstool. His beautiful head between my thighs. Black, white and silver blurring around me as I cried out, "Mon dieu."

"Are all statues naked, here in Paris? And what's with the Zebra print on the ottomans? And are all doors so cute and cut in half? And must all of our kisses be French kisses?"

"Your questions are most perplexing, and intriguing, which is another reason why I love you," he'd told me earlier, shaving kind of behind me in the big-ass mirror we had over our slab of a sink, with one bowl? Yes, just one.

"I love your shaving faces," I said. He laughed.

I was brushing my teeth, a personal thing now made public as Edward and I were all up in each other's business now that we were foreigners in a foreign land. I was bent over, so he hurried with the shaving, it seemed, so he could bump his endowment on my behind. I was laughing at that. "Not the reaction a man expects," he told me, finding his way in like a good little explorer. Then I was smiling, but not laughing, not so much, just when I caught a glimpse of myself, hair flying around as he banged into me until I went up on my tippy-toes and gasped his name while I got to watch him gasping mine.

So now, after the two rounds, and after breakfast I was on the loveseat, contented and amazed.

"Well, that airplane ride must have made us horny," he said sitting beside me. I sighed and put my head on his chest as he wrapped his long arm around me.

"It was all the hours of sneaky touching and the dirty talking that did it," I sighed. "And it's Paris, and we had to do it on this side of the world like right away, run up the flag and all. It's how we conquer."

"We weren't any better in Forks," he said, kissing the top of my head.

"How long do we have before we meet Peter and…Jennifer," I asked lazily, hoping he wouldn't notice my hesitation in saying Jennifer's name.

"If you're too tired, we can wait and meet them at dinner," he began.

"No. I want to see Paris!" I turned all big smiles, to give him my best imitation of enthusiasm.

"We can see Paris on our own if you need a break," he offered.

"A break?"

"From Peter and Jennifer," he said, pulling my head back onto his beautiful pectoral muscle. I kissed it just to pay homage, then I sighed.

"No…I can sleep when I'm dead. We can't just bow out and like…keep running into them all day."

"Paris is a big city," he said.

I had to look him in the eye again. "Are you wanting a break from them?"

He shrugged. "I just thought…I know she's not your type."

"Wait a minute, don't put this on me. I said I'd go."

"You're lying."

"What?" I shake my head like I'm shocked.

"I know I'm slow on the uptake, but…it hasn't been that hard. When you flipped her off on the plane, albeit you did it so she couldn't see, but still, it sent me a message anyway."

"I didn't," I insisted.

"You did. And…it's a complication I can't completely fix, but I won't force you to be with her more than is reasonable." He held my gaze. It was a stare-off.

"I won't be rude," I said to him. "I promise."

"Thanks," he said. That kind of ticked me off a bit. He should have said, "I know that." But he seemed relieved instead.

Cuddle time was over. I stood and walked with precision to my recently unpacked suitcase, putting its emptiness in the large closet, and digging some red-hot lingerie out of my new temporary mirrored dresser drawer. I was just tired enough and hyper enough to want to get all pissy, but the view of the Eiffel Tower from our window kind of took the childishness right out of me. I was in Paris, with Edward, the love of my life, and nothing, especially not Peter's twenty two year old girlfriend with the whiny, wonderland voice, was going to spoil it for me.

The streets were narrow, the houses charming, multi-storied brick buildings connected to one another. Small foreign cars in a variety of colors lined both sides of the street. We'd met up with Peter and Jennifer in the lobby of the hotel. Edward was eager to take me to the Luxembourg Gardens. But Jennifer wanted to go right to Notre Dame. We encouraged them to go there, and we'd meet them later for dinner. But Jennifer wasn't having that. She insisted Peter would be disappointed if Edward wasn't along to experience the Cathedral with them. Peter was very knowledgeable about the Cathedral's history, and we should go with them and see the Gardens the following day.

Edward said, "We're going to the gardens now. You're welcomed to come along."

She tried petulance, her lower lip jutting out in a way that seemed to melt Peter's heart. But Edward held firm, and I just held onto him.

So we were nearing the gardens, and Peter and Jennifer had decided to come along, though they lagged considerably behind. It was kind of perfect because we were almost alone.

It was hot this October in Paris. I wore the thin type of cotton skirt Edward adored, and a feminine white blouse that showed my arms. However I had a light sweater in case the Parisian sun was as onery as the one in Forks.

The gardens were lovely. But the cigarette smoke was kind of shocking. Edward said he kind of liked it, then admitted he'd only quit smoking a couple of months after losing his mom. He'd smoked for nine years.

"Okay," I said, "I've found the flaw. You've got black lungs hiding under those pecs I love so much."

I told him I was so glad he'd quit.

The gardens were crowded. Men played bocce ball, and we watched them until Jennifer put up enough of a fuss that Peter asked Edward if we wanted to go with them to get a crepe from one of the carts. We did want a crepe, so we followed along. But while we were more slow-paced, Jennifer seemed to catalogue everything rather quickly and wanted to move to the next adventure. They agreed to move around at their own pace, and we went at ours. Somewhere near a miniature Statue of Liberty, Edward and I ended up kissing. "We're in Paris," I whispered. "And I love you."

He held my face and we rubbed noses. "You're my girl."

That night we dined at a small trendy Parisian bistro. Edward and I started by sharing asparagus, with balsamic dressing and cheese. He fed me several bites. We were dining with Peter and Jennifer, and our hosting couple Jon Franco and his wife Camille, and Camille's brother Georges and his friend Durard. Jon Franco was charming and quiet, attentive to Camille. Camille was in deep conversation most of the night with Georges and Durard. Durard seemed taken with Edward. As was, I suspected, Jennifer. Great. Edward seemed oblivious, which was fine, as what could he do about it anyway? He and I were having a grand time. I was soon feeding him languistine risotto. Delicious. And his mouth was so pretty I had to kiss him many times.

After dinner, our guests had given Edward and Peter all the information needed for tomorrow's double lecture. He would provide their transportation. They would speak through a translator for the students who didn't speak English. While Edward and Peter worked, Camille invited Jennifer and me to go to the Musee Nissim de Camondo, then to a famous Asian spa.

I just wanted to be with Edward. But since that wasn't possible, and my social phobia needed to go, I said a grateful, "Yes."

Durard came too. He and Jennifer really hit it off, so that left me with Camille. Her English wasn't great, and she seemed, like her husband, to be on the quiet side so score for me.

The museum was a feast of Louis the XIV art and furniture. The spa was sensual and renewing. Edward beat me to the hotel. When I threw my shoes on the floor by the bed and crawled in beside him, he opened his sleepy green eyes and hummed low. "You are a beautiful sight."

I felt beautiful. And so relaxed. I knew I smelled…amazing. I knew my hair was thick and rich with a restorative treatment. I know my hands were so soft, and my feet were kind of adorable. So I confidently nestled next to my husband so he could remove my dress and admire me.

He felt over my waxed legs. I told him about my breast massage, and he asked me to instruct his hands, which I did. He licked my neck, then my chest, breasts, stomach, my neat little trim down there, then a direct hit, and I was gasping and welcoming, and he told me how much he loved my thighs, and I wrapped my smooth legs around him, and he pushed deep inside of me and rocked my world.

That night we sat at the small table on our balcony admiring the lighted Eiffel Tower and the sounds and smells of Paris. I sat on his lap, his arms tightly around me. He told me again all about the lecture. How he hadn't been nervous at all, not since London. He'd left his fears there. I didn't know what I'd been afraid of. We would grow together. As long as we listened and figured it out together, we'd make it.

"Edward," I whispered, my hands on his face, "do you think Durard is gay?"

He shrugged. "I assumed so. I thought Georges was. But maybe not?"

"At the museum…I came around a corner…and he and Jennifer were making out…the French way."

"Oh wow. That's…too bad. I think Peter is…he's really into her. At any rate…what the fuck? She's here as his girlfriend."

We were quiet for a while then. I could feel Edward clenching his jaw.

"Maybe it was a lapse…you know…she's young…it's Paris. I mean…I had that boob massage."

"You said it was an old woman though," he pointed out.

I knew Aro and Vickie were meeting us in Italy. Aro and Edward had work there, and Peter was going to observe. I wondered if Peter and Jennifer would still be together by then.

"There's nothing we can do about it," I told him.

"I know, it's just…Peter needs to be focused on the work."

"We'll just have to see," I said. We kissed, then he squeezed me, and we deepened the kiss. He ran his hand up and down my thigh. It was chilly, so I wore my robe, but he moved beneath it, and felt my skin. His lips were so perfectly soft and wet. And the things he whispered. I pitied anyone who wasn't us and didn't know this kind of intense love. He was not just my husband, he was an environment in which I lived.

Suddenly I was inspired. "For a balcony blow job while you stare at the Eiffel Tower, forever associating that Tower with this very visceral memory…of the blow job you haven't had yet, tell me who I am now impersonating. Ready?"

He nodded.

"Your dick is like my own personal Eiffel Tower," I said with my best French accent. "When you shove it up me, I light up."

He laughed and squeezed me. "I don't know. Pepe Le Pew?"

"Oh my god. Yes! We are so plugged into one another! You're like psychic. I mean, that could have been Maurice Chevalier!"

"Or Brigitte Bardo?" he suggested.

"Stop thinking of her! Especially while I put my mouth on your you know what." I was unzipping his pants. He raised his hips a bit so I could pull them down.

"I hope it's as dark as I want it to be," I said dropping to my knees.

He groaned as my lips found him. I pulled off to remind, "Keep staring at the Tower, Baby."


	31. Chapter 31

Author's note: A big, big thanks to all who've reviewed. I've read everyone and am touched you get so invested. You're very kind and encouraging. Also thanks to those who've marked this story as a favorite or alerted themselves to it. I bow. Really.

Catwoman 31

By November our tour was winding down in Venice, Italy. Don and Gianna, our hosting family, had a courtyard attached to their home. In the center was a large, bowl-shaped fountain with an ornate iron structure covering it. Edward and I tossed coins in their fountain and made wishes for a sixty year marriage. He wished for virility the whole time, and I wished for the ability to put up with his virility the whole time.

Inside their home four grand white pillars stood throughout the living room, unapologetically holding up the high faded painted ceiling. That ceiling was framed by heavily carved wood a foot wide. The walls were painted a faded pink color. A large gold framed mirror the size of a door was on one wall making the large room look huge. The fireplace was white, with an unusual shape. It had a hood which fanned out a foot over the hearth. The hearth was a substantial slab of white stone. The house was a delightful mixture of ancient and new. Edward and I stood under the chandelier and it seemed like the years of our life together were just as shiny and glorious. "Venice," I whispered, and he kissed me like we were under mistletoe.

Gianna was a lovely woman, a meat on her bones and no apologies type of woman. She laughed easily, and made me realize how homesick I really was. Not just for Forks, but for a mother. Or at least an Italian grandmother.

No wonder God didn't give me a mother for very long. If He had, I might have never gotten off the couch. There was something so completely wonderful about a mother's love. Gianna embodied that. She was always considerate of Edward and I. How were we feeling? Did we want to eat? Did we need time to ourselves? Was the bed comfortable? Was the temperature correct? She taught me how to make gnocchi, and I made her a couple of loaves of buckwheat. I explained later to Edward that this recipe and skill exchange was akin to becoming blood brothers.

"She's a dear," I whispered to him days later as we lay in the downy bed on top of sheets whiter than Jacob Black's teeth.

Our bedroom was covered in pink wallpaper on which was drawn a small floral grid, with a tiny flower in the center of each oval. Edward's arm was cushioning my head. He was naked, and I was nearly so, just wearing a pink slip, not my old one, but one Edward had bought me in Paris. He had a thing for pink lingerie that hearkened back to that day on my porch, the day we met, he said.

We'd had the gondola tour, and the serenade. We'd toured many of Venetian islands, and walked the narrow cobbled city streets. We'd eaten wonderful rustic food and drank fabulous hearty wine.

And I'd observed Edward's lecture at university. I thought it his best. He'd added more antidotes and interacted more with the students. His voice had such an endearing quality. And though I'd never tell Peter, Edward was the favored speaker. There was something electric about him.

But I was so ready to go home. This eagerness inside me was building. But not just yet.

Peter's relationship with Jennifer was eroding. Instead of sticking to herself, she was sticking more and more to Edward and me…or Edward. She told me repeatedly Edward reminded her of her older brother.

"How was your coffee date with Jennifer yesterday?" he asked now.

"It was good. I don't feel a responsibility to counsel her to stay with Peter. I don't want to get too involved. Gossip is gossip, and he who tells the story looks the best," I said.

"Is she going to go with us to Tuscany?" He asked.

"According to her she would have no character at all if she didn't. Everything is paid for in advance. She doesn't say she's through with him. It's what she told us both that night at the opera…he was unfaithful and she found out right before they left. They were on a break, so that's his technicality, but she sees it differently, of course."

So now we were lazing in bed, needing to get up and say our good-byes and head down the road to Tuscany. By train.

The Italian countryside breezed past our window. Gentle slopes, sometimes lined with grapes, dotted with grazing sheep, stone houses in the distance. We were to stay at one of these, a Tuscan farmhouse technically closed for the season, but open to us, Aro, Vickie, Edward and me, Peter and Jennifer. Associates were coming at various times for meetings connected to some of Are and Edward's philanthropical work.

Peter, Jennifer, Edward and I were two hours into our journey. Their seats faced ours, knee to knee. I was fighting to maintain eye contact as Peter droned on about business, but Edward's chin was on his chest and his head was bobbing along with the wheels on the tracks. Jennifer had been blatantly staring at my husband for most of the trip. Earlier, Peter had tried to draw her into an appreciation of the scenery, but she wasn't interested.

Edward's hand held mine. When the train went over a particularly jostling bump, he awoke, inhaled sharply and kissed me hello.

"Hello," I said, returning the kiss.

Jennifer looked down at her lap, then back up at us. "You guys are really in love," she said.

Edward looked at me, smiling like, "Here goes." I smiled back.

"We're married." Him.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything these days. My parents were married. And then they weren't. Let me ask you something…do you see yourselves staying married until death? Do you think that's even possible?"

Edward breathed in and straightened in the seat, kissing my hand before letting it go and rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. "I won't speak for Bella, but…I got married with the intention of keeping a promise. I meant what I said. Till death do us part."

"You don't think people mean that all the time?" she asked. She was so sincere, I couldn't fault her for asking, though Peter looked like he needed a drink.

"I can't speak for other people. Statistics are what they are. I doubt most people take a step like marriage with the intention to fail. I can only tell you what goes on in my mind." The circuit has given Edward a new ease with people.

"How are you going to make it all the way to death? Sure you're in love now, but this is the first year. What about ten years from now? Twenty?" Her again. Teary.

Edward took my hand again. He lightly moved his thumb over my knuckles. There was no tension there, only love.

"For everyday I get it right, I'm more hopeful. So, I tell myself, get it right. Get this next little exchange…right." He kisses my knuckles then. I love those knuckle kisses.

"What about you, Bella? What do you think when he says something like that?" She turns to me now. Peter is looking too, kind of helpless for all of his academic credentials.

"I say, he better get this right. God help him if he doesn't." They were frozen for a moment. Edward laughed first and kissed my knuckles again.

"Oh, I get it," Jennifer said pulling her legs beneath her as she excitedly readjusted herself in her seat. "He grovels and you rule. I knew it was like that. There's always a groveler and a ruler."

I sobered up now. "I don't know what there always is…or isn't," I said. "But Edward is a great forgiver. That's what his faith brings in. When we first talked about marriage he promised me he'd always be willing to forgive me."

She's thrown for a moment. She looks from me to him, and back to me. "Then that's a hall pass to do whatever the fuck."

I'm shaking my head no.

"Then what is it?" she asks, shifting around and irritated.

"It's love," I say.

"Have you tested it? Have you done something really bad?" she said.

We laugh. "I don't think so…not yet. Not really, really bad. But knowing he will work to forgive me…he will do that awful work…it makes it precious. If I don't mind hurting him…if his feelings are cheap to me…then I need to rethink my definition of love. And everyday…in the small things, he's merciful. So I have hope. I believe him."

"I don't know. If he's willing to forgive when he doesn't even know what you might do…or how much it will hurt, then what do you give him that's as 'precious,' to quote your word?" she challenges.

"I can answer that," Edward says. "Bella…" he looks at me, not Jennifer, "Bella is the most generous woman I know. She gives me everything she has to give. She shares her life…her soul…her cats…her mind…her heart…her body. She's my home."

"Thank you," I say, knowing we're kind of sickening, but I don't care.

"Then how do you forgive?" Jennifer asks him, her face ready to crumple.

"It takes work," Edward. "I didn't learn this on Bella, but I did learn it somewhere else. I did do something really bad. So people closest to me lost trust in me. They were hurt, almost irreparably. But they loved me so much, they wanted to give me another chance. So they stuck with me and worked out conditions…what they needed from me so they could trust me again. And I committed. I also pray. I need more strength than my own. Some of that just comes when I pray, but some I get from other people. So forgiveness is a long, long walk. You can't give up. You have to keep working at it, and if you're the one who messed up, you have to be humble and rebuild." He looked at Jennifer now. He didn't look away. She was red and snotty and crying.

She nodded. Edward stood then, holding on to the carry on rack, he extended his long hand to me. "Let's go up to the dining car."

I followed him. We wended our way through the train, and entered a small lobby. He opened the restroom door. "Not a chance we're doing it in there," he laughed. He came back to me and pushed me against the small window in the train's wall. "Why is it whenever we're enroute I can't stop myself from wanting you so badly I'm almost willing to hide in the baggage and rut?"

We laughed then, leaning against one another. I kissed him madly, hotly. His words had gotten me going. "I love you so much," I said.

He was already wiping at my cheeks. I could feel the rash wanting to bloom. "We have to stop. You're too delicate for this debauchery."

He took my hand then and led me up the narrow stairs so we could dine. I would follow him anywhere.


	32. Chapter 32

This is in March.

Catwoman 32

A Tuscan farmhouse. Nearly perfect. Then she crosses my line of vision, her red hair flying around her head. Vickie.

She tries to pass herself off as Edward's sister, these days. She has represented her self that way to our hosting family.

And James was a surprise. Not to Aro and Vickie, but to Edward and I. He'd invited himself along, or been invited by old Red. No one was talking.

Oddly enough, the work Aro and Edward are involved in has energized Peter, given him something to focus on other than his problems with Jennifer. Yes, she is still with us. As it is not really tourist season, and our party are the only ones on the farm besides our hosts, and the men are often tied up in business, the stragglers, James, Jennifer, Vickie and myself are creating our own society.

We're having fun. I didn't expect that. But we are our own little country of explorers. Currently, Edward, Peter and Aro are in a meeting in the city while we four are riding bicycles across the neighboring countryside. It is chilly, and windy, but beautiful. I am in fair shape, stronger than Jennifer, not as enduring as Vickie, about equal to James. At any rate, my legs are fatigued.

We have just stopped for lunch, humus on wonderful bread, better than mine, though Vickie disagrees. "You're defending my bread?" I say, kind of amazed at the goodwill.

"Why not. I misjudged you on a few things," she says graciously. She's kind of deadly when she's gracious. This new beauty, or beauty I had failed to acknowledge before, or maybe hadn't existed before, who knows, is there. Perhaps it's health, or the Italian countryside agreeing with her, or the fact that she truly seems to have fallen for Aro. I don't know. But she's a beautiful woman.

Her boobs are well covered in this mid-fifties weather. They are outlined in her athletic overshirts. Her hips look rather great in her black athletic pants, and her feet are nice and tiny. She's kind of a doll.

I'm eager to hear what she midjudged me on. "Such as…" I say balling my trash and stuffing it in the small pack behind my seat, then shoving my hands into my gloves.

"I told you. I wasn't shy about it, not where Edward's concerned. I thought you'd hold him back." She throws a leg over her bike. In the distance James is wrestling Jennifer's water bottle from her grasp and she's squealing like a fiend.

"So I had to trek all over Europe to prove I wouldn't do that?" I get ready to ride, too.

"Leaving," Vickie calls to the two cavorting in some weird water-bottle stealing mating ritual. They don't even acknowledge us as James has her on the ground now so he can feel her up while he pretends to tickle. She's still squealing her approval.

Vickie and I take off slowly, locked in this conversation. "I still have reservations, just so you know. I mean…I don't know what he's thinking living in Forks. We all just went along with it because well…you know. The attempt. It was like, what little Eddie wants, little Eddie gets."

She pulled a bit ahead then. I realized I was never going to want to hug her, so I left that notion on the road. But I made an effort to catch up to her substantial backside. "Okay…I'm going to be as blunt as you are," I warn her.

"Letting me set the bar?" she asked, amused.

"Yeah. Why is it your business where Edward lives? Why is it any of it your business?" I stopped and straddled my bike.

She stopped too. We both checked behind us. James and Vickie had yet to show.

Vickie pulled her hair up with a clip. "I guess it isn't. He's made that clear."

"Good." I looked at the empty road behind us. "So…should we go back for them, or keep making the loop?"

"Just so you know…I do care about him. I just wanted to see him recover. It was hard. He made a serious attempt. To know he could do that…to know it didn't matter enough that I cared. No, don't go off in your head. He'd never reciprocated and I tried…you have no idea. I still love him. I will always love him." She flushed a deep red color as she said this. "But I'm not confused. And I'm not the type to keep settling for his crumbs. I'm IN love with Aro. I mean…." There was a twinkle in her eyes and it wasn't just the sun setting over the sweeping valley before us. "He's always been there, but I guess I wasn't ready. He's waited for me…so patiently. I don't want to marry him, but you know he asks me all the time."

"We're married. You have to respect that, and if you don't, I can't welcome you into our lives at all." Me.

She is nodding. "You're doing the blunt thing just fine."

"Quick learner."

We stared at one another for a beat.

"That's…pretty wonderful about you and Aro." Me. I'm happy for her. I'm relieved.

She nods. "Yeah." She puts one foot on a pedal, "I'm not going back for them."

"Me neither."

So we don't go back, but when we arrive at the farm we're staying at, the men are already there. Edward has changed into jeans and a white shirt only half buttoned, and a black vest completely unbuttoned. He's got to be freezing. He is holding a glass of wine, looking off over a hill. I try to sneak up on him, but being uncoordinated, I crunch something underfoot and he turns. "Oh Baby you…." He doesn't finish but gives me a hot tipsy kiss. I put my hands up under his shirt and his skin is cold. He's not much of a drinker, but we're digging the wine and imbibing way more than we ever have.

"Have a good ride?" he asks as I ask, "Have a good meeting?"

We both say yes.

I'm in his arms, and he smells so good, and fruity from the wine, and I press my lips against his neck, and he presses his lips against the side of my face, and when it's mutual like this, we are the most graceful amazing humans creating a harmony like you wouldn't believe. I take his glass from his hand and drain it, then set it on the ground and we resume our embrace, and he kisses me behind my ear which makes me want to howl and so horny I could melt and then blaze this whole dormant vineyard to the ground.

He presses one hand against the small of my back, bowing my body into his as he bends over and inhales as he kisses me, moving his tongue over mine, the heat of his mouth, so perfectly, in control, taking all I give. I press myself against him, feeling his yielded power, his muscles stretching over me, his hips rotating against me, his leg flexing between mine as I smash my private parts against his thigh. Lust rockets through me. He sweeps me off my feet and walks with purpose toward the patio that opens off of our bedroom. His strides are long, as I kiss him and pull on his hair and moan in his arms, and say, "Hurry."

We enter the doors and do not bother to close them against the cold vista, and he undresses with a determination and an impatience, "Get it off," he says because I'm staring at him, waiting to see him naked, but his command jars me to action, and I kick off my shoes, toe off my socks, peel off my bike pants and underwear, then the shirt, click off my bra.

"Yeah," he whispers, his eyes on fire, looking from my breasts to my thighs. He pushes me back to the bed. It hits the back of my legs and I sit as my knees widen apart. My hand takes his. I lay back as he crawls over me, its fluid, its seamless, and he's stretched out beside me, "Open your legs…wider. Wider. I want to see it."

His hands, his fingers, on me, in me, frantic movement and I explode, ride this current of, "oh god, oh god, oh god," parachute down…down…. He roofs me and fills me with a grunt, bringing me back up, wild, my head slamming side to side, "Edward…I llll…uuhh." Another explosion, only deeper this time, on target, in the target, hotter, more concentric circles of euphoria radiating up my body, down my body to curl my toes, his arm snakes under my lower back, lifts me, my torso bowed towards him, he kisses my breasts, captures a nipple and sucks and sucks, then the other, then kisses me, up my chest, my neck, groans into my mouth, "I love you, Bella, Bella…."

We collapse onto the bed. I won't let him roll off or disconnect. "Stay," I pant.

"I can't move," he laughs. "I don't want to. To be inside you like that…the way you're made. Only God."

We don't see the others until the following morning. They are too quiet at breakfast. Edward and I look at one another. Aro seems fine. Vickie seems to realize she is really only with him. But the other three have their heads pretty well buried over their plates. James is the only one actually eating. I even think I hear him humming.

I sneak a look at Edward. He raises his brow at me, and continues to put some salami, yes salami, on his plate with his eggs.

I settle for the wonderful bread and a red jam and cottage cheese.

As we sit, Peter pushes his plate away. He sighs loudly and folds his arms. Jennifer looks up, then back to her plate where she smashes her food into puree.

"Good morning," I say, Edward says.

They answer and nod. I love the thick stone walls in this room, the rustic buffet which holds the assortment of breakfast food, the large beams that run beneath the ceiling, and the white-washed walls. But the tension is so thick here I ask Edward if he'd like to take our food outside.

"Too chilly," he says, not catching the subtle hint I'm trying to give. So we take our places at the long rectangular table.

This is a free day, and I thought we'd all been looking forward to it. "We're going to the market at Chianti," I say, willing to have any of them go along.

"The market at Chianti," Jennifer repeats in a sing-song voice.

"Holy Cow was I just mimicked?" I asked with mock humor (meaning I was actually pissed but pretending I found the whole thing amusing), used to working around the immature.

"Yes Teacher," Jennifer said in a little girl voice, causing James to snicker, and Peter to glare at him.

"Aro and I would love to go to the market," Vickie said. It's a sad day when Vickie is the olive branch at the breakfast table.

"The bus is leaving at ten," Edward said, meaning our hosts were driving our asses to Chianti at ten in their van.

Edward and I walked over the estate after breakfast. We had gone up and down several of the long rows of grapes before we heard the van honk letting us know it was time to board for the trip.

He took my hand, and we walked quickly. We were almost the last to arrive. James and Jennifer were absent.

"Is Jennifer not coming?" Edward asked Peter.

"Guess not," Peter said looking out the window.

Edward asked the driver to wait. He got off the bus, walking rapidly into the house. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Peter huffed and stood, following Edward's path. I stood, torn. I decided to follow. Vickie looked at me and smirked. Aro just shook his head. For him that was a mouthful. Hadn't he been in Peter's shoes?

Entering the house I could easily hear them. They were toward the back of the house where Peter and Jennifer had been staying. Peter was speaking heatedly. I heard Edward's comment, then Peter again.

Jennifer came flying past me crying. I called her and she stopped, looking this way and that. "I don't need your high and mighty two cents," she said.

"What's happening?" Me.

She didn't answer, so I continued down the hall.

"Look," Edward was saying, positioned between the two men in the doorway of Peter's room. James had obviously been in the room, wearing a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants, "James can come with us and get a room somewhere else. You stay here or…what do you want to do?" he said.

"Fuck him," James said, and Peter lunged toward him, blocked only by Edward.

James seemed to think it was funny. I called out, "Edward?" And that stopped Peter from pushing against my husband.

Peter turned to look at me in the narrow hallway. "I'm sorry, Bella," he mumbled. "I can't stay here," to no one.

He bolted past me. "Tell him to get the fuck out of my room so I can pack," he called back to Edward.

"You don't have to do that," I heard Jennifer say to Peter.

"Really? What should I do, stay around while you fuck him?"

Jennifer threw something and I heard it crash to the floor. "Oh hell no," I said hurrying toward the noise.

"No," was all I said before another ceramic dish went flying into the thick stone wall, shattering into pieces. I rushed to her. "Get a grip. This isn't yours."

She pushed away from me. "I'm sorry. It's just…everything is ruined. I want to go home. I want to go home."

She ran to her room then. I heard more disturbance as she reached James and Edward. Now both of the men entered the living room where I was picking up the pieces of Mrs. Cotta's beautiful plates. The Cotta's were outside doing chores. Their son was waiting in the van. And Jennifer was vandalizing their lovely home. I was livid as I collected the shattered crockery.

Edward spoke to Peter. "We all go in the morning. We could meet you tomorrow afternoon in Florence. Are you up for the last meeting? We can put Jennifer in a hotel until the flight, and you won't have to suffer James anymore. I'm sending his ass home."

"You think so?" James said, hands on his hips as he faced Edward.

"I don't care what you do, but you won't be around us when you do it. You've insulted my friend, made a fool out of yourself, disrespected everyone on this trip, and disrupted it without even being invited. You're out of here. Call a cab, hire a mule, use a damn scooter, but this is where you disappear. Go in your room. Have the decency to take yourself out of this man's line of vision until he can leave your ass behind."

I whispered, "Damn," as I continued to clean up from Jennifer. Don't mess with my man. That man was soon standing beside me holding a broom and a dustpan. There was just no end to his greatness.

In Florence I found myself losing energy for the trip. It's like the plug got pulled. This was our last stop, so maybe I was just allowing myself to succumb to the homesickness. I don't know. And then I threw up. It was the salami. And the ham. Edward insisted I try it. That really did it. The only one who seemed more desultory than me on the plane ride home was Jennifer. I had loved Florence, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't pull out of my funk. Jennifer had barely glanced at Florence, barely come out of her private room the whole time. On the plane ride home she and Peter had sat far apart.

When we got home, the first thing I saw as we approached the house was Jasper shoveling our driveway the Jasper way, by hand. He wore a big red stocking cap.

As soon as we parked the car I flew out the door. Jasper had dropped the shovel, and he met me in a big hug. "You're home!"

Alice was yelling from behind. I turned to see her running down the driveway in fluffy house-shoes and a pink quilted robe. She was screaming, as was I. We met in the street and embraced. She smelled so good, like my house, like my bread. I laughed at that.

They helped us bring our bags inside. I quickly looked through the rooms. Cottonball was curled up on our bed, on Edward's pillow. I scooped her up before he could see and hugged her to me. She was already telling me off. I'd been gone for over a month.

"I know, baby, I know." It felt so good to be here, so amazing. I felt so grateful for this place, for the people whom I loved, for my cat. I burst out crying. Sobbing. I ran in the bathroom. Cottenball jumped from my arms, freaked out. I held onto the sink. Just as quickly the tears had come, I started to laugh. What was wrong with me?

"You okay?" Edward pushed the door wide and looked in.

I quickly doused my face with water. All of a sudden I felt bombarded with emotion. I laughed, then laughed some more, then started to cry again. I grabbed a towel and buried my face. "Jet lagged," I squeaked out.

He came to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Alice and Jasper went home. They said to call if we wanted to get together for dinner, but if we're tired they understand."

"T…tired," I said, letting him lead me to our bed.

He pulled my clothes off and brought me pajamas. They were summer ones, the only thing left in the drawer that wasn't wadded in my luggage. I stepped into the shorts and then put my head and arms through the soft wife-beater.

"Hmm," he said, pretending to check me out by really checking me out. I laughed a little, but I felt the tears wanting to storm the gates again.

"Want to talk a little bit, or rest?" he asked helping me under the covers.

I took a big breath and let it out slow, but it didn't staunch more tears.

I shook my head. I could have also nodded I was that confused.

He rubbed up and down my thigh, kneeling by the bed as he liked to do. I calmed down a bit and rubbed my hand through his hair, scratching his scalp a little. He dropped his head like a loyal dog. I laughed a bit, but that made me cry.

"I'm really tired," I said.

"Me too," he lifted his head. "I have a few phone calls. Then I'll be in."

We'd been together so much. Much as I liked that, I also felt the need for space. I wasn't built to always be around people. When he walked out of the room, something inside felt relief. I didn't want him far, but just far enough.

I turned on my side into a fetal position. Here's what I knew. Our family was in a state of being rearranged. It hadn't settled since I'd met Edward. Vickie was in, James was on the outs. Peter and Edward had accomplished much in Europe, though Peter's personal life had taken a hit. I was stronger than I realized, and able to adapt to the changes marriage was bringing. So far. One day at a time. I was sick to my stomach. I was so very happy to be home, and really didn't feel the need to ever leave it again. But if I had to, I could. But not permanently.

Edward was a big man. I didn't know how far he could go. It was exciting. And I was still somewhat terrified.

I was sick to my stomach. And I might be cracking up. I was a mess.


	33. Chapter 33

Catwoman 33

"Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly and ugly," I was saying in a low voice as I slid each hangar past me on the pole.

"You realize you just rejected fifteen dresses," Alice told me.

"I guess there's only so many ways you can cut and sew a piece of fabric to try and make the human form look ravishing, but none of those are doing it for me."

"I'm out of ideas," Alice.

"That will be the day," I walked over to shoes and stared at a pair of heels, trying to imagine spending the entire day of Alice and Jasper's wedding standing on those things.

She came up behind me and we stood side by side. "Rose is getting her dress in the city at that shop I told you about."

"That's great. Maybe she can pick out mine." Me.

"Maybe you could try and act like you care." Her eyes were big. We used to laugh at her big eyes and the guilt they could inspire. She had this look she'd perfected, meant to make people jabber apologies. It really worked. Then her business had only made her more expressive. Kids loved her. Everyone did. Well, a lot of people did.

"I'm sorry. What a crap bridesmaid I am."

"I'm …trying not to take you personally." She was touching the shoe.

"Oh god, I suck so bad." I tried to hug on her. She leaned her head toward me, but she kept her focus on the shoe.

"You want to hit me with that?" I asked, trying to make her laugh.

She smiled a little. "Sort of."

We both laughed then. I took the shoe and pretended to hit myself. That brought the old sales lady around. Alice told her she'd call. She grabbed my arm and we hurried out of the shop.

"He doesn't think you have to have it out?" she asked me over lunch.

"He says I may have a stone, but I'm young for surgery. They're just going to watch it. But I never know when it's going to flare, and it's kind of miserable. But they did this hydra-scan and nothing showed. Makes me feel like a hypochondriac."

Alice cut her sandwich into fourths using her knife and fork. Jasper always said Alice put the world on a tiny grid. He always bought her small things. Her house was full of crazy little collections.

"Poor baby," she said giving me the 'you're pathetic' eyes. I had to laugh, but unfortunately I was sipping coffee so it wasn't pretty.

"I felt like such a loser," I was wiping my face, and the front of my light jacket, "letting Edward go without me. He and Peter flew out yesterday for New Orleans. He was going to cancel. We had a fight. He called me stubborn. Well…the most stubborn-assed woman he'd ever met. Keep in mind…Vickie. So, it's saying a lot." My gall-bladder started to ache. It wasn't my imagination.

She reached across the tiny table and took my hand. "He worships you. He wants you with him all of the time."

I nodded. "It's not easy…being worshipped. You can only go down."

"That's what the first year is about, right? Figuring each other out? Especially for you guys. You've been so unconventional about things. You really are getting to know one another."

"Yeah. But…I can't go traipsing all over the place at a moment's notice. I have a job!"

"That you don't exactly love."

"So? I love it enough, and I'd like to keep it. I just got back from a pretty decent sabbatical, and now I'm going to ask for another week?"

"One thing about working at the college, they GET travel. They revere it, right?"

"What if I need like…a real maternity leave someday…or something?"

"Bella, if you got pregnant, why would you work at all? You could stay home and put your feet up and let that baby get nice and fat. Don't pressure yourself. Edward adores you, and you're wealthy."

"Yes, but Alice, I've always been very independent. And my job has its issues like any job would, but I do enjoy being out amongst people…."

"Since when?"

"No…I do."

"Okay, Bella. Whatever. How about cake?"

"We'll split a piece," I say, barely moving my lips.

Alice puts her hand high in the air and clicks her fingers for the waitress. She always embarrasses me and Jasper when we go to restaurants. You'd think, running one herself, she'd have mercy, but no, it's like she wants to run them through the paces so she can prove to us how inadequate they are.

"Alice…Edward could absorb me." I kind of gasp. I've never said this before. Never knew it in a one-sentence premise.

I have to laugh at her expression, those eyes.

"Stop it," she says.

"Listen to me…I will not be the good woman, standing behind him glowing at him while he speaks into microphones all over the globe. I did that in Europe, and it was great. But as a way of life…no. A person could atrophy…I won't be like this security blanket standing behind him with my hands like a hamster's, kind of curled over from disuse, clutching a little designer bag, smiling into the camera like 'What the fuck am I doing here?'"

"Get it out," Alice says now, having completely flip-flopped.

"I have always been the master of my time. I can do things. I love him. I want him. But who the hell is he?"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Alice soothes, "the decadent chocolate, no whip, two forks," she says with authority to the beleaguered waitress who appears. Then Alice waves her away like the Queen of Hearts, and continues to pat my hand.

"Look, Bella, he chose you because he didn't want the simpleton clutching the bag. He chose you because of the things you do and who you are. He wanted the whole package. He's not freaking out. You are."

"Listen, Alice. He chose me because I'm the pioneer, the complete opposite of the kind of woman he's known. I get that. But that makes me my own brand. I'm just another kind of trophy."

"Will you listen to yourself? You are doing your freak thing. Do you love this man?"

"Yes," I croak before sucking up more coffee. "He's perfect. But his potential has my gall bladder spitting rocks. And don't casually tell me to give up my job like it's just another perk of having married Mr. Deep Pockets. Who the hell am I going to be after I completely surrender every little thing that supposedly made me unique in the first place? He comes into my town. Blasts that to bits. We must have a shelter for the cats. We must have a community center. Let me clean you up. Let me make you shiny and…bearable. Then he comes into my house…and I'm not living there anymore, I'm in the palace across the street like Dr. Suess's Bartholomew Cubbins, looking back at my humble past…no offense, you and Jazz are doing a great job, but you get my meaning…"

"Oh god you don't want me to buy your house," she says like 'I knew it.'

"No, just listen…he comes onto my campus, and I suddenly am just the wife of the great guy…he's like the star, the guest speaker, the great, fabulous, blow-you-out-of-the-water hottie…and I'm so lucky, being the plain boring bitch that I am.

"He wants to replace my oven. Bigger. Better. He wants me to learn the Dulcimer. The Harp. He wants me to bring my bread to his associates. So colloquial. So quaint. So cute. I'm cute! Have you ever known me to be cute? Fuck cute! And he wants to get me up in the air…all the time…jetting around. Just quit your job! Just quit your life! I'm the cats! I'm captured and my fate is in his omnipotent hands. He controls everything!"

"Listen to me, Bella," the waitress creeps toward our table and sets the cake between us. "I said two forks," Alice barks, and the poor girl scurries off. "Listen to me, if you become the woman you just described I blame you. Not Edward. You. Rise up to meet him. If he can smash you…you let it happen. You are weak. And you're too old to be weak. Listen to you! You're a fierce bitch! Why are you pretending you're not?"

"Oh fuck you," I say, grabbing the one fork and cutting a big selfish piece, then poking it into my mouth and continuing my rant with my mouth full. "How do you come up against Ghandi! Peaceful resistence! Relentlessly pressing for change…and always polite! Passive aggressive is more like it."

"What are you saying? Are you sorry you married Edward?"

"There were real reasons that I was alone," I whisper, surrendering the fork.

The girl brings another before Alice has to use it. "Made this one, did ya?" she says to the girl, then cuts a big bite.

"I love him so much," I say, pinching off a piece of icing.

"Not real butter," Alice says, taking another bite just to be sure.

"He's wonderful. But…shouldn't we bring out the best in one another? He's like…way better."

"Then maybe you're doing a better job than he is."

"It's not a competition. Do you know why I really didn't go with him to New Orleans?"

She shook her head and continued to scarf.

"I just wanted to say no."

She pointed at me with the fork. "Now that's passive aggressive."

"He knew it. He left upset."

"Call him. Call him right now and tell him you love him."

I shook my head. I need this time away from him. That's all it is. I have to think. "We…we've been together too much."

Alice sighs and digs for her wallet, pulling two one dollar bills for the tip.

"Oh no," I say. "Get a twenty." Jasper and I do this, charging her penance for bad restaurant behavior.

"A twenty? For a lunchmeat sandwich with jarred pesto, weak coffee and fake cake?"

"A twenty for snapping your fingers and being a bitch."

She grabs the twenty and slaps it onto the table. I do the same.

"That is insane," she rebukes me.

"I'm wealthy now," I remind her. "God help me, I am."

We stand and gather our things. Outside she stops me and grips my arm, "Listen, Edward Cullen is never going to roll over you. You ARE the most stubborn-assed woman. Maybe you and Edward are a lot alike. Can you imagine what your off-spring will be like?"

I'm home for just a few minutes before I break down and call. He's been texting, but it's all reporter style. Arrived safely. Checked in. Met with our host. Going to dinner with Peter and hosts. He signs Edward. No endearment.

So I call. One ring. His rich voice. I sit heavily on the couch, missing him like crazy.

"It's me," I say, throwing as much of the burden for conversation onto him as possible.

"You read my mind. Thinking about you." I hear a woman laughing in the background. Then I hear Peter say something, and more laughing.

"I…I love you."

"Oh." He says, then a distant, "excuse me," to his hosts. It grows quieter.

"Sorry…I had to move away from the table. Our new friends are gregarious. About that love thing…it's mutual. I don't like being away from you."

Guilt swamps me. "I really don't either."

He doesn't say it, thank god—he doesn't remind me I could have come along.

"How's New Orleans?"

"Not as good without you. Crowded. Parking sucks. What are you doing?"

"Just got home from shopping for the dress."

"Did you find one?"

I can't believe he remembers that, or even cares. But of course, he does. "No. I…I don't like the way we were…when you left."

"Me either. I told you I wasn't mad. I was just disappointed. But I thought a lot about it…I haven't stopped, in fact. When I get home, maybe we need to look at everything…it's kind of taking off…maybe it's too much. I just wish I could hold you."

"No. Edward. I haven't been feeling well…that's all."

Conversation just dies there.

"Get back to your people," I say.

"You're my people. This will be the longest week…."

"I'll talk to you later."

"As soon as I'm done with this I'll call you," Him.

"You don't have to call every minute."

"That's not every minute. I haven't spoken with you since this morning. I miss you."

"I know…but it's just a week."

"I don't feel that way."

"You're the one that left," me.

"Bella." He's exasperated.

"Go back to your dinner. We'll talk later."

"Are you upset?"

"No. My side aches."

"Should I come home?"

"Are you serious? No. I'm saying I need to lay down. I'll call you later. Let me call you."

"I can't promise. I don't like this. You sound upset. I should be there with you."

"Why? I'm not upset. I have this thing…you know."

"Lay down then. I'll call you if I don't hear soon. I'm going to wrap this up. We're at a bar, and it's taken forever to get our food."

"Go eat your food. I love you."

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too. If I was with you…I want to touch you. I don't like distance between us. That's all the trip was, just miles between us. Rivers between us. It just seems pointless."

"Don't think like that. We probably need this."

"You do. You need this, don't you? That's what this is. You need a break from me."

"No."

It's quiet again.


	34. Chapter 34

Catwoman 34

Edward will be home in a couple of hours. I'm trying to ignore the clock and not freeze to death while I wait for the loaves to come out of the oven.

Alice is cursing because she just burned her thumb on the oven's door. I told her not to touch it, but she did anyway, and now she's sucking her thumb and yelling at me.

"I told you…," I'm saying, while she's dancing around saying, "If you would…."

I lead her to the last pile of snow we hope to have this year and make her plunge her thumb into it. She's laughing, and calls me a bitch and I whack her on the butt.

"I can come back later," Edward says from behind us.

I don't even think, I run to him and jump up, wrapping my legs around him, holding him tight. There are no words, just this hug, feeling him big and alive in my limb-lock. I love him so much the emotion engulfs me. Jasper has come outside because Edward is talking to him, but I can't hear, I just hang on. We must never be apart again.

He is laughing at something Alice has said. I honestly can't follow the words, I just hold him and squeeze like he's my life-raft in the choppy sea of life or something.

He doesn't question it, and seems content to take me through Alice's house and out the front door. He's grunted a few times as I've made maneuvering a little bulky, but I don't open my eyes or lift my head or do anything but be my barnacle self.

It's love. And it's some guilt. I've been telling myself I needed him to go. But truth? I'm no good by myself anymore. I'm in so much trouble, unwilling to change. Unable. I'm so stuck, and yet so excited to not be stuck. I'm just screwed. And about to be.

I am rubbing his hair and his back as we reach the front door. He doesn't try to put me down, and it wouldn't work because I'm a tree frog and he's my mighty oak.

So we're in the house and the kissing starts as soon as he elbows the door closed. No talking, just kissing and moaning, and him plopping onto the couch, rearranging me so he can get at my clothes, my nappy, torn quilted jacket that is really Jasper's, and my flannel pajama bottoms I've had for a decade, and I'm working on his belt and his fly.

I am opened like a package with ripped paper hanging around, he is opened, pants only to the knees. We're using our hands on each other because we want the tactile experience, the, 'you are really here,' slick silky skin confirmation before we connect the other dots.

We don't work on orgasm, just touching and driving each other crazier than already crazy. "Oh I missed you," he's saying. "Don't ever leave me again," I punch, then hug, then kiss, then chastise him a little more, then adore him with words, lips, hands, feet caressing his backside, well one foot, the other is buried behind the couch cushion.

He's between my knees, the vertical line splitting me in two, or holding me together. "Are you sorry, are you sorry, are you sorry," he's saying, his lips just everywhere, wet heat plucking my skin, sucking my skin, little bites, and devouring.

"No. No. Are you? Are you?" Me, panting, grabbing at him, ripping his shirt away, leaving just the T-shirt, the New Orleans one I do pull off of him and toss aside.

He is relentless. I squeak, and freeze as sensation whips me away, out of the room, up and up, and I grip him now as he flattens his weight on me, and we're connected now, yes, the real feel of him centered, yes, right there, right there.

"Bella." One, two, three, "I love you, I love you." Four, five, six, six, six, six…."

"But you could have come," he's saying now as we lay in our bed, the cold rain slapping on our window. All the lights in the house off as the sun is setting and we've been in this bed for hours. Gray clouds blanket us in stormy twilight, but we are together now. So let the trumpets sound.

He runs his fingers along my braids. Alice had braided my hair so well that morning, and then pinned each braid over my head like a crown. After all of my antics with Edward and the braids are still holding.

"That's not what I'm saying. I needed to let you go so I could think."

"Bullshit, Bella. Bulllllshit." He says all friendly, kissing me to punctuate the most annoying word.

"No. I'm telling you the truth. I don't think you realize how…bossy you are."

He laughs now, but I can tell he's piqued. "What? Hey pot, meet kettle."

"Oh, no you don't. You said you weren't mad at me."

"I'm not."

"Bullllshit right back at ya," I say, kissing his lying lips that are so lippy and perfect.

"You wanted to prove a point, and you did. And I had to be without you all week so you could make your…point. That's all I'm saying."

I stiffen and push his hand away from my hair. I rise up on my elbow. In the distance, a clap of thunder rolls across the sky. "You're kidding, right?"

My boobs are on display and he must always address them as if they are additional people, so he's touching my nipples, first righty then lefty, with the back of his long finger, and he's looking at them as he says, "Just look at these gorgeous things. And no, I'm not kidding, Love."

"Is this how you fight? Is this how you do your asshole stuff? With this lovey-dovey cover?"

"Ohhh," he says, "all tough in Forks, right? Bare-knuckle, baby." He grabs me then and rolls back and forth with me on top.

I put my hands on the bed, roofing him. "Stop it Edward. You forget, I've heard the talk on conflict resolution, on two continents now. 'Remember what Mayor Juliani said, in conflict, a leader is the calmest person in the room.'" I try to mimic Edward's teacher voice on that last part about the Mayor. "Yeah, I know what you're doing."

I move quickly, and I'm sitting on the edge of the bed now, looking for my clothes. I think they're in the living room, but they weren't so good anyway, I thought I had more time before his majesty showed, but he'd caught me looking homeless, feral. Too bad.

I get up and walk across the room in my birthday suit. There's another clap of thunder and accompanying lightning, and it couldn't be timed more perfectly.

He kind of hoots, and I hold on to the doorframe and look at him over my shoulder before flouncing out of the room. I hear him running after me then, and I hurry into the living room. I scoop up my pants as he catches up and grabs me around the waist. I am nothing for him to pick up. "Not so fast," he says. "Mimicking me?"

I have to smile. "I was listening, that's all."

He sets us on the couch. I'm on his lap. "Listening so you could entrap me."

"You entrap yourself. Anyone who talks as much as you do has to take the fallout."

He whoops now, throwing his head back and all. He's flushed a nice red color. "I overtalk?"

"I didn't say that."

"Bella…what's really going on?" Suddenly serious. "You're the one who's mad."

"We're both mad. Let's just be honest."

"Define mad," he says.

"Pissed off."

He takes a big breath and lets it out slow. He's not looking at me. "Okay. The situation made me mad. I wasn't mad at you…."

"Why can't you just admit it? Do you think I'm not going to make you mad?"

"No." Deep eye-contact now. "I realize you're going to make me mad."

"Then admit it." Me.

"I'm not mad now. I just don't want it to happen again. I understand if you can't go with me…but for a real reason. I thought you just didn't want to be with me."

"You were right. I thought that was what I wanted. Then when you were gone…I realized I didn't want you to be gone. So I was just frustrated about it all."

"And we had to spend a week apart because of that confusion," he filled in.

"So what are you saying, I should stop being confused and just make the decision you want me to make and then things will be great?" I move off of his lap and cover myself with his torn shirt that is on the floor near my feet.

"Don't cover up," he groans. "I haven't seen you for a week."

"We've been having sex for hours. I'm cold."

He grabs an afghan off the back of the couch and engulfs me with it. It's hard to make my points if he's going to keep being nice. Then I remember it's his way of winning, so I fold my arms and let the afghan slip a bit.

"I'm saying, what the fuck, Bella? You don't want to be with me?" Okay. Rock-bed at last.

"I know. I just got worried that you didn't respect my job."

"What? I respect your job."

"You act like I can just drop everything."

"I don't think that. I…I'm sorry I put that out. I didn't mean it. I just wanted you with me."

"And what I do seems more disposable."

"I…didn't mean it that way. I…you're the most important thing in the world to me. I know we have to talk about this. This thing with Peter…I'm not under contract. Not yet, anyway. We're going to be doing a lot of writing. I'm intrigued. I'm excited about it. I know it will lead to more speaking opportunities, and I've got something to give here, something valuable…but none of it is worth more than us."

"Sound great. You really do know how to put things."

"Yeah. But…the thing of it is, I've had speaking opportunities. I've done things like this ever since college. Why am I going right back to it? You're what I want. You're it. There's no confusion there."

"You do see how screwed I am, no pun intended?" Me.

He stares at the floor, then looks at me briefly, takes my hand and laces our fingers, and looks back to the floor. He breaks out in a smile and laughs a little then.

"I keep wanting to call you Gretchen. With those braids, you look like the cutest little fucking milk maid ever."

I'm not laughing. "I'm not a fucking milk-maid. Do you get that?" I've said this really loudly.

The smile goes quickly away. "Of course."

"I don't think you do. I knew there might be changes…I didn't know how you'd do here…how you'd stay here…Vickie said…my sides hurts."

"Baby. Baby." He drops on his knees in front of the couch as he lays me over. I'm not co-operating, so he says, "Lay down. I'll get the heating pad. Let me take care of you please."

"No," I say. "You don't get to."

I turn my head away from him. I know I'm being childish, but I don't care.

"Bella," he strokes over my hair, my shoulder, my arm, pats my leg. "I'll tell Peter I'm out. That's it. There's no way this is coming between us."

"You'll do no such thing. Don't you see? If it's not this, it'll be something else. You're meant to do more."

"I have one duty in this life, and that's to be your husband."

"Seriously? No way."

"What do you want, woman? You're driving me crazy!"

"I want you to just…I don't know. No, I do. I am not marriage material. I have no give. No…bend. I want you to want to be here…in Forks. I need stability. I can't jet-set all over. I'm not a great traveler."

"You did great on the trip."

"But I need recovery time. I'm not snappy. I don't have great rebound."

"So this New Orleans trip was too soon?"

"Of course it was. But…I'm going to hold you back. I…I shouldn't have mimicked you. You're really good at what you do. You're meant to do it. You were always meant to do it. You married me on a fluke."

"Not this again? Are you serious? What should I do, cut myself? Give you vials of my blood to put all over the house as marks of my sincerity? How about an ear to wear around your neck? Or a hand?" He buries his head against my stomach and shakes his head.

"My side," I whine, and he quickly straightens.

"Sorry."

"I know I'm being ridiculous," I say, "but it's moving too quick. I need time. Don't expect so much. You're…demanding."

"I'm not. I told you to stay home."

"You didn't mean it! You admitted you were pissed!"

"You made me admit it! I was working on it! I love you!"

I sniff. "I know you do. I just…I married a celebrity."

He laughed. "You didn't. You married a wreck, who is no longer a wreck because you love him. Right? I mean…you're not regretting our marriage. Tell me you're not. That is the thing…."

"I'm not. Not because of you. Because of me. I only doubt myself." Me.

"Look," he turns and clears the coffee table. Then he takes one thing, the remote, and puts it back in the table's center, "this table is our marriage, this remote stands for a lack of commitment."

"You mean divorce?" I say.

"Shhh," he hisses. "Don't say that word. Lack of commitment."

"Okay."

Now he takes the remote back off the table. "Whatever else comes up," he says, adding a few magazines he'd just scooped to the floor, and then, my discarded underwear, "we can handle all this crap. We can work it out."

I look at the jumble in the center of the table. "Got it."

"As long," and he puts the remote back in the middle of the crazy pile, "as we don't have this in the mix."

"A lack of commitment," I say.

"Right," he says snatching the remote out of the pile again and putting it where I can't see it on the floor.

I stare at the mess on the table. "Don't forget I was at that same pre-marital class when Ben did that the first time," I say.

"Yeah, I stole it from Ben, but it's good stuff, right?"

"Right," I concur. "It's good stuff."

Edward has run across the street to get the bread. I'm finishing up the pasta as he bursts through the front door and closes it behind. He's holding a big plastic box. He brings it across the room to the open kitchen and sets it there, lifting the lid and the bread to place it on the counter. I slap the cutting board and the bread knife next to him. He takes one of the loaves and slices it through. We're silent as we arrange our dinner. He flicks on the news, and we take our dinner to the couch and sit side by side. The magazines and my underwear are still piled on the coffee table where we now put our feet as we stretch out to enjoy our meal.

"Bread's good," he says, chewing away.

"Yeah," I whisper. My elbow nudges his as I take a bite. Then I realize he's nudging me on purpose. I look at him, and he kisses me, and it's kind of sloppy, with some bread crumbs but so right.

It's just so right.


	35. Chapter 35

Catwoman 35

"Seriously?" I ask the woman standing beside the emergency room bed with little computer thingy.

"You're still at…," and she rattles off my address.

"Yes. Ooooh." I am so miserable. Angela has driven me here to Forks General. Now Ben sticks his head in the door.

"Where's Riley?" I ask, wanting to explode, but knowing whatever is happening in my side is not going to blow, it's just going to hang at the point of explosion…forever.

"He's…."

I don't listen.

Ben comes deeper into the examining room where I'm rolling around on the table as the admissions worker leaves.

"Ohhh, you're about to hear the f-word," I moan.

"Would you like a scripture quote about unwholesome talk?"

"I'll cut you." But saying that was just so good, I mentally laughed. I peaked at Ben, and the look on his face, he was still the high school boy I loved to shock.

"I suppose you're not above prayer?" His tone, so funny.

"What do you think?"

So he prayed for me, and his prayers were always so sincere and good. I loved him.

"Edward on his way home?"

"I don't know." Me.

He's shaking his head. Angela says he lives in perpetual dismay, never hardened or jaded by anything we do as he seems to immediately forget our dastardly deeds and be shocked afresh each time we reveal our dysfunctions.

In other words, he still has expectations. Poor Ben.

"Do you want me to keep trying to get ahold of him?"

"Nooooo," I sing out, ready to scream.

"Why not? Bella…I know you. Don't you dare do what I think you're doing."

"Okay. I'll stop being…sick."

"You know what I mean. You're deliberately not telling him so you can prove how he's not here."

I laugh a little, and gasp at the pain. "F-word," I say.

"What? Bella, if you can't be Christ-like, how about shooting for a little maturity."

"Is…," I grimace, "there a difference?"

He blows out a breath. His glasses catch so much light I can't see his eyes. Ben is not a handsome man, but he's kind of an adorable geek. I can't wait until this is over and I can relate it around the table one night, head-light eyes. That's if I can ever eat again.

"I have Edward's number programmed into my phone, you know. How about I give him a call? He'll never forgive himself if he misses your surgery."

"Wish I could miss it. They'll wait until it calms down anyway," I choke out.

"Bella…this is one of those moments where you have to be aware of another even though you're suffering."

"Call him. But I don't want to bother him. They're meeting with the editor this evening."

"Okay. But your selflessness is misplaced. Edward wants to be a husband first, not an author."

"Mmm-hmm," I answer, a new batch of sweat breaking out on my forehead.

"Hang in there, kiddo," he says squeezing my arm, his cell phone already in his hand.

The surgery is scheduled for the next afternoon. They're taking out my gall bladder. Edward is trying to get a flight home from New York. I have insisted, through Ben and then directly, that he stay for his meeting with the editor first. It won't do him any good to be here.

"You're just trying to prove to me that you don't need me!" he accused.

Ben had heard it as he was holding his phone to my ear. "Bullshit, Edward," I had cried. Ben had whispered, "unwholesome talk," as Edward had said, "Put Ben on the phone. You're not listening." And I went on to say, the golden sentence, "You proved I don't need you when you left with Peter knowing I'm not well."

Ben and Peter gasped in unison. Men.

Of course I was on pain meds. I was blaming them as I awaited his appearance. They'd already prepped me. Ben had picked Edward up at the airport in Port Angeles so I didn't have the added concern of my husband trying to drive in a state of upset. But they were running late and if I wasn't high as the proverbial kite, I'd be worried.

You see, Edward had insisted, insisted on cancelling with the editor. But I was feeling better, as long as I ate white rice in three tablespoon increments (meaning that was my meal) and drank water.

I was scheduled for surgery, but not for a month. So Edward had plenty of time to meet with the editor, then fly home, and build a small ark and gather cats before I went under the knife.

But then the big one happened. The day after he left, it hit around lunch time, no rhyme or reason, I hadn't even eaten my rice yet, but there it was, and I couldn't move much, or breathe much. Jasper came to the library and got me and took me home. Angela came to stay with me and insisted we go to the emergency room. That led to a rescheduling of my surgery.

So to say the thing I'd said about Edward not caring when I'd practically beaten him onto the plane, that was just the lowest blow.

I had wanted to hurt him. I didn't know why. I never knew I had such a mean streak. Love had brought it out. All alone, not married, not even dating, I'd looked rather bland. But with someone else I had to relate to, well all kinds of little barbed gems were showing up.

I had wanted to hurt Edward. Ben saw it. He was right. I wanted him to be away, and miss my surgery. I knew it would wound him. Deeply. I was diabolical.

I did want to show him I didn't need him. I liked the idea of showing him that, even though it wasn't true, and I ached for him. The gall-bladder issues were nothing. I needed an exorcism.

Edward burst into my room, wearing a white dress shirt that was more rumpled than any shirt I'd ever seen him in, and black dress pants that accentuated his narrow hips and trim waist and long legs. His hair was an explosion of red and brown. He was such a beautiful man.

"Wow," I said.

His face. I can't imagine what I looked like, high and starring at him with my mouth open. Whatever I was portraying, he threw down the carry on bag in his hand, and covered the space to my bed in like two strides.

He grabbed my hand with both of his. I saw his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes…. I hadn't had a heart attack or something. I was expected to recover. What he really this worried?

He leaned over me and kissed me. I loved the way he smelled even though it was a little messed up from him being on a plane and being so afraid. I wanted to comfort him. I was such a bitch, such a bitch.

I had my hands on his face. He had tears when he closed his eyes. I couldn't handle his emotion. I needed positive. I was about to be split open here…well, a two or three inch incision, but still we're talking organ removal here. Don't tell me I'll never miss it. Just don't. That thing had some purpose besides stone delivery.

"Baby, my baby." He pressed his forehead to mine. "I should never have left, never have gotten on that plane. I'll never forgive myself."

"Stop it. Stop it."

"You think I don't care? I thought…I don't know what I thought. I'm not fit to be anybody's husband. This is what I tried to tell you…."

"Stop it. You're…perfect." We kissed again, but his kiss wasn't love it was guilt.

"Stop it," I slurred. "What happened at your meeting?" I wanted to know, but I was being all martyr-like and perfect. I disgusted myself.

"Who cares? They're taking you in in a few minutes. Are you scared? Don't be. It'll be okay. This guy's good, believe me I've checked."

"I know you have. I was there, remember? The phone calls?"

"Yeah," he laughed a little, but his forehead was still against mine, and his eyes were closed. He called this recharging. I don't know how he could think there was anything good in me to draw from.

"Mr. Cullen," the nurse said, they were here for me. I was going to be beamed up onto the mother ship and probed. I laughed, but then it looked a little loopy to the others I'm sure.

He kissed my hand and let it go. He mouthed "I love you," but he seemed ready to fall apart. Ben was in the hall, and I reached for him as they pushed me past. "…him," was all I could say, but he nodded reassurance.

"I've got him," he said.

Oh, God bless Ben.

Why are they waking me up? I'm sick to my stomach. Why didn't they just let me sleep? Fuckers.

"Hi," Edward says, bent over me, hands in his pockets.

I'm trying to adjust. Then I'm awake. I'm in my room again. "Hi."

The nurse is bustling around, talking so loudly. Edward is asking for more ice chips for me. He smiles at me, I smile at him. He's tucked his shirt in. And tried to comb his hair.

"Your hair is so great," I say.

He laughs a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm such a bitch." My face crumples, but I don't cry. I clear my throat. "I can't believe you married me. What were you thinking? I'm not good enough for you."

"You don't think so?" he's like amused.

"No. I'm so plain and boring. I have no talent. My creativity is like third grade level. Even lower. First grade level."

He pulls the one aqua colored chair close to the bed and sits. "I don't know. Those ceilings you painted in the old house…"

"Oh yeah. You told Vickie I was artsy."

He laughed again.

"Did you ever see her boobs?"

"Um…not intentionally."

"What does that mean? You saw them? Like…nipples?" I almost lift up, but immediately realize that's a mistake.

The nurse is back at high-volume again. I don't want to pee. I have to find out about Vickie. But she's dragging me up and Edward is rushing to my other side, and they're taking me the few steps to the john. "Just go out," I tell Edward because I don't do any peeing or pooping in front of him. I have my standards. So he goes out of the room because he knows the rules, and the lady helps me on and I go, but I'm seething. I knew he'd seen those things.

So when she's fussed around and put the circulatory socks on me, and covered me up he re-enters. She giggles around him, and I know a couple of them have come in here bogus-like just to see him.

When he's in the chair I continue. "I'm really, really pissed. Did you have sex with her?"

"No, Bella. Can we talk about something else? I already told you about my history with Vickie. It wasn't sexual."

"But you saw them. The dirigibles."

"You want to hear this? Really?"

"I bet you compare them to mine all the time."

"No, Bella. Yours leave me speechless. When I see them I'm hypnotized, unable to think of my own name much less any one elses' funbags."

"You are such a liar. I really need to watch you, don't I?"

"Bella…how are you feeling? Do you know how much I hated the idea of you going through this? I couldn't stand it. It took a long time."

"Don't change the subject. When did you see them?"

"I don't know. At camp. Some boy pulled her top down while we were swimming. I beat him up. I…needed to do something with the energy." He laughed.

"You whore."

"Stop."

"How many have you seen besides mine?"

"Pairs or individual breasts?" he asked. I didn't like his attitude.

"You're not even sorry."

He shrugged. "Not really. Can we talk about how you're feeling now?"

"I got a message on Facebook from that guy I dated when I went to see Alice and Rose, remember, right after you moved in?"

"Yes," he said like I was in gradeschool.

"We talked a little. Then he said he couldn't stop thinking about me."

He moved around in his seat. "And?"

"Nothing. I told Angela about it and she said, well what would you tell Edward if the situation was reversed? And I said…point taken. I unfriended him."

He looked at me for a minute. "Why did you talk to him in the first place?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I didn't think it through. I…wanted to tell him I got married so he'd know and not show up again."

He kept looking at me.

"I know I'm a disappointment."

"Only when you say stupid stuff like that…like you're a disappointment."

"You're not disappointed in me? Not at all? Liar."

"Liar is a four-letter-word."

"Sorry. But I know I'm not easy."

He smiles. "Well, you kind of are."

"What? You said you liked that about me."

"I do. Believe me I do. Where does this guy who you dated live?"

"In Chicago. I told you."

"Have you seen him since you dated?"

"I would have told you that. This is the first time I've even talked to him since then. I just let it hang. I came home and fell in love with you."

"What did you talk about?"

"I don't know. Just like hi," I kind of sang 'hi,' and, "what's up. I said, 'I got married.' He didn't post anything, then later that day another post or something. I would have never known, but I've been on Facebook with this crazy thing," I pointed to my where my gall bladder used to be. "Then he just started talking, telling me congratulations, and what am I up to, who did I marry, what do you do. Then it went to a private message and he just laid it out. He needed closure, couldn't stop thinking about me. I'm just false advertising, he doesn't know. Left him on a high note. Now you…you're living the real deal. You know I thought of you the whole time I was with him. I just couldn't stop thinking about you. And he was so nice. But he was never going to get anywhere. But he did me a favor, he reminded me I shouldn't give up on the whole male population, you know? You owe that guy."

He stared at me again. What was with all this staring? "Okay," he said, "new topic."

I was laughing. Who knew why. "I love God," I sighed.

"Oookay."

"I do. Ben is so great." I told him about the f-word, how I cleaned it up just for Ben.

We talked about my cats and I laughed. I told him how Cottonball always sleeps on his pillow, and I'm sorry I let it happen and I wouldn't again. Then I asked once more about the meeting.

"We signed a deal." He told me about it. It was so fabulous. Now I was starring.

"I'm sorry I didn't discuss it with you. But I just wanted to get home. My lawyers are looking through everything." Him.

"You're too good for me," I blurted. "I was trying to hurt you. I should have never told you you got on that plane to abandon me or whatever I said. It was so horrible to say that to you. I'm so heartless. I don't deserve you."

He was holding my head and shoulder and I was sobbing in his arms. I heard him speak to the nurse. He was concerned I'd been given too much pain medicine. She said something about adjusting the dose.

I was home convalescing a couple of days later. Edward and I were slumped on the couch, Jasper and Alice were on the loveseat. Alice had made pizza, and the left-overs sat on the coffee table. We had just watched the movie, Blue Valentine about the disintegration of a marriage.

"Oh my gosh we can't get married," Alice said to Jasper.

"Dude, that hairline," Jasper said to Edward laughing. "Oh crap if that's my future…."

"So depressing," I said, sated on the pizza. I was giddy over being able to eat again.

We talked about the great acting, but the story was so life-like and so real.

"Most of the time you just get the beginning, and they get married and live happily ever after. You don't watch how it plays out. Why did we watch that?" Alice groaned.

We talked a while about our parents' marriages. It just got more depressing. Edward held up Carlisle and Esme. We started to feel a ray of hope. Then he announced how we each had to determine to beat the odds.

Alice said, "What do Carlisle and Esme do that makes their marriage different than the couple in the movie?"

Edward sucked a big breath. "They respect each other. They're friends. They allow each other to be different, but they're supportive. They empower each other. They aren't an obstacle to one another's happiness, they foster each other's happiness. I think she can trust him to put her first, and she does the same thing back. I don't know. Bella, what do you see?"

"Um…it's kind of like they're still dating. They haven't lost that attraction thing. She like…delights in him. And he just kind of seems like it's his greatest privilege to be with her."

We talked about how Ryan Goslings character had no ambition. How the wife in the movie always had ambition, and he didn't grow with her. As the discussion picked up, I grew more and more quiet.

"Yeah, the seeds were always there," Alice said. "At the beginning when he goes to dinner at her parent's house, he says he hasn't finished high school. He's working as a mover. He doesn't seem to have any plans, and as the movie progresses, you find out he doesn't care to move on up."

"But he loved her, and he loved her little girl and made her his own. That's outstanding!" I blurt. "Does he have to keep doing great things? Isn't commitment great?" I pick up the remote and wave it in Edward's face. He takes it from me and holds it.

"He is committed, but he's also addicted," Alice says. "Then showing up at her work and having a fit. She was gagging when he touched her. Can you imagine what that would feel like? I mean, he disgusted her in the end. That's just…."

"They sure didn't start out that way," Jasper.

"I know!" Alice said. "Then it ends with someone wanting to puke! Why did we watch that?"

I gulped a little. I looked at Edward and smiled weakly. He stared at me as if thinking, "Oh no, here we go."

After Alice and Jasper leave and we're getting ready for bed, our discussion about the movie starts up again. Well, I start it again. "So…which one am I, the woman or Ryan Gosling's character?"

Edward is changing his pillowcase. He does that every night now. "Why do you think you're either one?" He gets into the bed. He's in his boxers, and his chest and arms are the most beautiful things.

"Did you relate to them?"

"I hope not. Get in here." He pulls back my covers. We haven't had sex in a week, but we've been creative as heck. I reach for him.

"I could be the guy," I say.

"I knew you were thinking that. I just knew it."

"Yeah, and you're her."

He held me, thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess. If I had to pick one. I'm her at the beginning before she knows who she is. And you saved me." In the beginning of the movie, Ryan's character saved the woman. By the end, she couldn't save him.

"Edward…."

"Yes, Bella?"

"I don't ever want to hold us back."

"Me neither."

"What's your vision for us…for this marriage we've created?"

"First of all, we are the marriage. Second of all, I don't want to have it all figured out. It's already surprising me."

"In a good way?"

"A very good way. I love my life with you. But I want to keep growing as a person. I had gotten in a rut a few years back. I don't ever want to get there again. You challenge me. I may not always like it…but I love it." He kissed the top of my head.

"That makes no sense."

"Yeah. Well…I love our life. You can infuriate me…something you've insisted I admit, so I do, but it's good. It's the kick in the butt I need…so far."

"Am I holding you back?"

"Ahhh…no. You have given me a steadiness I formerly lacked. You are invaluable to me. So…precious, yeah. I'm not warm and fuzzy by nature, but I'm a lover around you. You bring it out, and I don't know how, you just do. You're infuriating in that you sell yourself short and I don't know how to protect you from yourself because it just seems ridiculous. I love the whole package. I love you. Everything else is on the table to be negotiated."

"What do I need to change?"

"If you change nothing from this day on…I'll spend the rest of my life intrigued and fascinated."

"No way. You know you have to grow. You think I don't know I have to?"

"You're kind of a baby when you fight, but I'll even take that. It's a package."

"Watch yourself."

"I know. I can't win these things unless I let you win. So…you win." He pulled me into his arms so I laid half on top of him. He kissed me long and sweet, and then it moved into phase two, and I attacked him. I loved stroking him, and the way his heart hammered and his breathing grew louder as he turned into my embrace.


	36. Chapter 36

Catwoman 36

We were in Chicago at Carlisle and Esme's house. It was spring, a week after Jasper and Alice's wedding. I had just gotten a text from Alice. I was laughing. They'd been on a nude beach during this leg of their honeymoon and Jasper had fallen asleep and his butt was sun-burned.

I snorted. "What's so funny?" Edward asked. I showed him the text, and he put his hand over his face. "Dude," he said laughing.

We were sitting at the breakfast table with Esme and Carlisle. I knew I was rude to be reading texts while we were chilling together, but Carlisle was reading the paper. Edward was getting ready to tell them about Jasper's buns when his phone went off, and then from behind us the house phone.

Esme jumped up to get the landline, and Edward was already speaking on his cell. His posture and expression told me something was wrong. The alarm signals were also being received by Carlisle as he looked beyond Edward and me to Esme. I turned and witnessed her distress. She spoke carefully, but her eyes were glued to Carlisle's and were filling with tears.

"Aro has died," she said. Carlisle jumped up to take the phone from Esme. Edward was fighting the whole idea as Vickie's voice poured out of the speaker, a muffled hysterical wail.

Turns out James was speaking to Carlisle. Carlisle was asking medical questions. Sounded like a heart attack. Edward turned to face him, and the four of them began to converse through two phones. Edward held my hand, as he talked to her. Esme held onto Carlisle's arm, then he slid his arm around her. Eventually Edward turned away from them and pulled his hand from mine. He put his elbows on the table. I scooted as close as possible and put one hand on his thigh, the other arm around him.

Vickie and Aro had been in Texas. Edward was saying he'd come and get them, get the body and bring them back here to Chicago where Aro had family. A son he barely spoke to. A brother.

James was also in Texas. They spoke a while longer. Vickie's voice had calmed. Edward would clear a flight plan and leave as soon as possible. James and Vickie would contact a funeral home and start the transportation details.

"Did you know James was there?" Edward asked Carlisle when they'd gotten off the phones.

Carlisle shook his head. "It's a good thing Vickie's not alone."

Esme stared at her husband. She didn't look convinced.

"What will we do without Aro?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Carlisle put his arms around his wife and they stayed that way for a while.

I was rubbing over Edward's back. He finally straightened up and breathed in. He gave me a brief, sad smile. "I'm so sorry," I said, and he nodded. He stood, dragging his hand over my shoulders as he passed me and headed for the glass doors. He opened one and stepped onto the deck. We all followed him out there. Esme plopped onto a loveseat. Carlisle went to Edward and slung his arms around his shoulders.

Edward's head dropped as he leaned on the deck railing. "I want a cigarette," Edward laughed a little. Then he cried. Carlisle looked over his shoulder at me, and I stepped next to Edward's other side. He reached for me then, and we stood there in an embrace. I stroked his hair and back.

Carlisle went and half sat, half fell beside Esme.

By the time the plans were in place it was evening. Edward and Carlisle would fly out in the morning to pick up Vickie and James, and Aro's body. Edward had picked up bodies before, once for a cousin of Ben's, once for a lady in the church who's sister had died in a retirement community. And death was no stranger to Dr. Carlisle.

That night, we ate sandwiches and went to bed early. The men were leaving right after sunrise, and Esme and I had much to do on this end. I wore my usual ratty nightware, frayed undershirt my underwear.

Edward and I lay wrapped together by the top sheet and one another's limbs. He was distant, then clingy all afternoon and evening. "It's so hard to believe," he whispered.

"I know. It's a weird set-up. Why were they together? The three of them?"

"They were friends," Edward said half-heartedly.

"Yeah," I said. "Special friends."

He laughed a little.

"Do you even like your brother?"

"You know he's not my favorite person. He often traveled with them. In Europe he'd seemed completely over Vickie and onto Jennifer."

"He's a weird-o. What will we do if they're like making out at the funeral?"

"We won't do anything. It's not our problem. Anyway, Vickie really cared about Aro. They go way back. She's really broken up."

I didn't comment. If you can't say something nice…. But I did wonder what we were in for.

Edward turned to me and gave me a soft kiss, his hand lightly touching the back of my head. That sweetness seemed like a match to tinder. We needed each other, needed to affirm that we were alive and damn glad of it. The kiss went on and on and morphed into the connection we'd longed for all day. I knew I'd have a rash, but I had all night to get over it. His lips moved on mine, and I met him with equal desperation. When he kissed me, I ceased to feel any environment other than him. The room fell away. Yet my awareness of Edward heightened. In sync was an understatement. We were one.

He pushed me onto my side, my back to him, and pulled my hair away to run his open mouth over my neck. That and his breath hitting my ear made me delirious with lust. I reached behind me and stroked his private parts hard and soft in my hand. Moans and breathing, he pushed me onto my stomach and started to rub me with his hands. The hands said it all. They were in complete admiration mode. My skin. His hands. They curved over my curves and I understood how he saw me, how I was made. His mouth. My skin. Savored and devoured. On my knees, over his face his warm eager lips on my lips, his hands digging into my backside. Explosion. "No more, oh god."

On my back, him on top smashing me into the bed, but not there long enough before I was back on my side being pulled into him, his arm around my waist. There was no resistance in me, only compliance as we scrambled to get angled just right as he entered me from behind. Then oh. The greater connection now, man and wife. Oh. He pushed into me from behind, my ear, hot and wet lips on my neck. Teeth biting my shoulders. Ow. And oh. Grinding back into him. Him - "I'm going to…." Me - "It's all right. Let go. Let go."

Us. "I love you. Love…you."

In the morning, several hours after Edward and Carlisle left for Texas, Esme and I kept an appointment at the funeral home and made arrangements for Aro's service. Carlisle had already spoken with Aro's attorney, Mr. Jenks, learning Aro had left instructions, which really helped. Mr. Jenks then let Esme and I into Aro's upscale loft apartment to select clothing and to look for photos.

It was eerie to be there. Aro was impeccably neat. Vickie, not so much. Her clothing was strewn around the apartment. Her things were on his dresser, and in his bathroom. Yes, I looked, into each room, trying to get a sense of the man I'd shot with water through Edward's window that crazy night in Forks.

Aro liked black, white and gray. He had a stack of jig-saw puzzles on a shelf. He liked Lean Cuisine and expensively bottled water. He had a few pieces of art, stark simple pieces, Picasso-ish. In the bedroom, a box on the floor, handcuffs, toys for sex left there like a box of litter. Vickie's fluff strewn around the room, silky, sheer, pastel, feathers. High-heels like from the fifties, silver-colored, pom-poms on the toes lying where they'd been kicked off, a life interrupted.

His books on architecture. Some biographies. Art. Erotic art. Books on business. Photography. No classics.

No music, but a sound system throughout the rooms that played soft rock as soon as we'd entered the place. Photos, a few crumpled in a nightstand drawer. Esme had the courage to look and find. Black and whites of parents? One of a hippy looking woman holding a baby, the son? Another of a young family, guy and wife, two babies, the son's family? None of himself. Not anywhere.

Esme called Aro's brother, and I called the son, Dale. I introduced myself.

"So the golden boy got married," he'd said.

"Yes, he did. Dale, I have some difficult news, Aro died…."

He was, of course, shocked. I pictured the man in the photo, a younger Aro without the sophistication, without the quiet fire. "I always thought he'd be there," Dale said. "We…didn't talk," he kind of choked. I stayed on with him until he had all the service details. I asked him if someone was with him, and he answered, "My wife."

He talked to her for a minute, the phone muffled. Then he told me he wouldn't be attending. He had to work, and…he didn't know. I repeated the details. He passed them to her, she was the writer. Then he got off quickly.

The lawyer helped us write the obituary. Also we needed details for the service. Aro had done military service. Air force. He'd had a long career in aeronautics. But his philanthropical work was his heart, the lawyer Mr. Jenks, said.

It was then it hit me. Aro had taken over for Edward. He'd taken over. What did that mean now? Would James step in? Someone else? What would it mean?

Vickie was distraught at Aro's graveside. Dale did show up, but he stood back, his wife clinging to him protectively, looking daggers at anyone who dared to come too near. The children weren't there, but Dale looked shuttered and angry. He did allow Edward, the replacement son, to shake his hand. "Your dad was a great man," Edward said.

"Guess you'd think so," Dale said before his wife led him off.

Tanya had arrived for the service with a handsome, younger man she introduced as her fiancé. She was obviously distraught and they didn't stay long. Vickie was leaning heavily on James. She wore, "the littlest black dress." When we all went to lunch, I positioned myself so footsies with my husband's brother couldn't 'accidently' happen. He'd already shot me a couple of skanky vibes in the receiving line by the casket of all places. I'd been standing beside Edward who'd introduced me to a hundred people, all business associates who thought the world of Aro, and wondered when Edward would be stepping into his former role. Some of them didn't seem to realize he'd ever taken a demotion.

Twice I'd felt a hand brush my back, too low, but it hadn't been Edward, it had been James as he left the line to go to the restroom, or hospitality room, or to nap in an extra casket, or whatever creepy yucks like him did during visitations.

Edward had given a brief address at the funeral. Ben had helped him with it the night before over Skype. Standing tall and well-tailored with a fresh extra short haircut, Edward had said, "Of all the people I've worked with over the years, Aro never let his personality get in the way of his work. It was really about meeting the goal of helping people with him. He didn't need recognition. He didn't care who got credit for his ideas. He only cared about the project and its impact on change. That made him generous. That made him unique. And yet the willingness to serve, to listen, and be visionary made him a decisive individual that could lead. He was a listener. As worn out as 'the greater good' has become, he really did make a consistent sincere effort to serve the greater good without becoming cold or indifferent to someone's special interests. He will be missed by myself as a mentor and a friend, and by the people who relied on him to guide their influence. He leaves big shoes, but clear tracks. To him I am…we are all grateful."

When my husband sat beside me, I could feel a relief that the tribute was over, but also a peace. His eyes were soft as he looked at me. I knew he wanted to kiss me. I longed to kiss him. So he took my hand, and we stared at one another, communicating our deep feelings that way. I was telling him I was proud, and that I'd always be there. He was saying he knew it, and life was precious to him, and we were calm about what we were willing to do in the future. Whatever it was, it would be together.

What it further meant was this – two months later we were apartment shopping in Chicago. We were looking at a loft in a vintage building in the Gold Coast neighborhood. I had quit my job. It was bittersweet, but more sweet than bitter as the days passed. It made sense.

Edward knew how to step into Aro's shoes. They were originally Edward's afterall. And he'd be in the city a lot more while he did that. He could write anywhere, but the main offices for the work Aro left behind were in Chicago.

So it made sense to Edward to buy the condo instead of living six months out of the year in a hotel. "You're a homebody," he'd said.

He also reasoned that the condo could easily be sold should we choose to move. True it was more than we needed, but it was an investment, Edward said. I didn't agree with that statement. "Your home is your home," I said with the wisdom of Gilmore Girls or something. What I meant was, your home was where you lived. It was always more that than anything else. And I intended to turn this place into an oasis.

So Edward bought the place, which meant I did too. And I found myself living there and getting used to Chicago. Meanwhile, our house in Forks was being 'housesat,' by Rose. She was commuting to Port Angeles where she'd gotten a job in hospital administration.

How ass-up was this? Now Alice and Rose were together again. Only Alice had married Jasper, and Rose was dating Emmett. So while my four besties regrouped, I was once again left out in the cold…of Edward's arms. Okay, not so cold. But kind of crazy the way it was working, no?

Don't you know I'd gotten this flexible by a process? A speedy one, but I moved in warp speed ever since I'd married Edward.

Everything I'd feared about this marriage, had, in a way, come upon me. I was standing in the center of our Gold Coast ultra modern condo looking out the front window of our ultra-modern living room. I caught my hands looking like a hamster's as I held them before me curved and empty.

I was now living the life Alice and Rose had wanted and I had eschewed. I loved being this near to Esme. She was so helpful in picking out colors for our condo. Edward was working some long hours, and he still had all of the writing with Peter. Peter was here at least once a month and they'd hole up in Edward's study and eat copious amounts of pizza or whatever I made. It was kind of fun. Now Peter was seeking an adjunct position at the University of Chicago and it looked like he was going to get it which meant he was going to move here.

I was taking Yoga with Esme, and she was only too happy to explain some of her assignments in the world of decorating. She said I was a natural. I didn't know, but it was loads of fun to accompany her on shopping trips, look at her samples, or visit her suppliers on line.

I also went to church with her, and when the men weren't working, they went to. This led to other things like volunteer work and a book club, and they had a decent sized library that was in a pathetic mess and they were looking for a volunteer. I hadn't said yes yet, but I'd been in there two or three times looking at the mess and saying, no way.

And Vickie and James were together, together. Like almost as soon as the dirt hit Aro's casket. Or maybe before. I never could figure it out. No imagination, I guess.

The trouble in paradise was…besides the fact I felt completely overwhelmed, was that Vickie and James practically lived at Carlisle and Esme's.

So we were seeing them much more than I'd hoped. I'd let him get by with things, just like I'd suffered Jacob Black all those years. I hadn't wanted to rock the boat or in anyway upset Carlisle and Esme, but letting this guy ruin my family life was just stupid. I decided I would not complain to Edward, I'd confront James myself. I called him up and invited him to meet for coffee. He said yes, but he said it, or texted it, like I was inviting him to a slumber party for just the two of us. I mean he answered right away and used a lot of exclamation points. That even made me more frustrated.

Imagine my surprise when I found Vickie walking toward my table and not James.

She was wearing shorts and a sheer top. It was Rose all over again as I watched a man spill coffee down the front of his shirt as she flounced her way to my table.

"Surprise, surprise," she smirked pulling out the curved wooden chair across from me and sitting delicately.

"Are you his emissary?" I asked trying to take a nonchalant sip of my coffee.

"He doesn't know a thing about this. I saw the text and answered."

"Why? I needed to talk to him." The goodwill, if there had been any, we'd known briefly in Europe was way gone.

"Yeah, well, I found this a little strange. I thought maybe I should check it out."

I kept drinking my coffee, trying to let the frustration I felt at her subterfuge roll off before I spoke and made things worse.

"Not speaking?" Her.

"Look, I'm not after James if that's what you're worried about." I certainly didn't intend to rat James out to her. This was between him and myself and I hoped to nip it before it got into the family and hurt people.

"You think he's interested in you."

"No. I do not." I honestly didn't know what I should say. Lying seemed my best option.

"Bella." She is shaking her head, all kinds of smiles. "You do realize that I'm very free sexually?"

"I…never thought much about it, but yeah, the thing with Emmett. James. Aro. James. Yeah." I didn't mention the box of toys I'd seen at Aro's apartment. If they were hers, and I'd bet they were, they'd been around.

She laughed, but had flushed such a deep red. "Very righteous. I notice you left out Edward."

"Like I said in Europe, there is only me and Edward. That's all there's ever been."

"Oh, I know. Believe me."

"I wanted to meet with James in private to make as little trouble as possible for Esme and Carlisle."

"What a disappointment her son must be. And me…we both know what a trial I've been." She was trying not to laugh.

"Esme seems happy to have you both around. I think the family has really helped one another since Aro."

Some of the bravado fell away then. "James has helped me so much. He knows how much I loved Aro. People just don't get him. It hasn't been easy having to share his mother with Edward. Edward is great…but Edward is great. Great is hard to follow. James has his good points. So what do you think he's done? He's playing you. It's a joke. Believe me, you're not his type. Not every man in the world is after you, Bella. Let's face it, you're a pretty girl, but the world is full of pretty girls. Even beautiful ones." Now she's not smiling.

"I was hoping we could get along for Esme and Carlisle's sake. Having a family is nice. Mine had gotten really small. But I'm not a kid and I won't be pushed around. If you want to be James' ambassador and stick your nose in, here it is. He needs to keep his hands to himself. I'm not going to be uptight at family functions. If he gets out of line again I'm going to Edward."

"Oh, not the big gun." She had her hand on her chest. "What has James ever done? He's an affectionate person. I know he oversteps, but he doesn't mean what you think. He likes to get a rise out of people. Especially Edward."

"That's too bad. They're really not very close. I don't want to make it worse. But he's the one being an asshole. I don't have to tolerate it, and I won't. So tell him if you're so eager to interfere. I wanted to spare you this. But…here you are." I stood then.

"Oh don't be all dramatic. Finish your coffee."

I threw a couple of dollars on the table and continued to gather my stuff. "I know you've had a tough year, and I'm going through a lot of changes too. I didn't mean to say this to you, and maybe later I'll regret it, but it doesn't change the facts. See you?"

She looked at me briefly then back to the table. "Yeah. You will. Like it or not you will."

I nodded and walked away then. I knew this wasn't over.


	37. Chapter 37

Catwoman 37

We were studying the many shades of white. I wanted a white kitchen. I had lots of open shelving and thick soapstone countertops in a grayish green. I had my girls, Alice and Rose. What a great time we were having hanging together this Fourth of July weekend at Carlisle and Esme's.

Esme seemed to be our missing piece. We fit around her. I hadn't even realized we were missing anything.

"You don't want to go to the yellow," Alice was warning me like we were talking about me smoking crack and not picking the wrong hue. She was giving me the koala eyes.

"What if I wanna?" I said, biting an apple.

"You are so fucking hopeless," she sighed continuing to study the swatches.

Alice adored Esme. I mean adored. Esme was her good mother and she was behaving toward me like a sibling vying for mommy's attention. We all had issues. But Alice could hang in Esme's office and sort through her decorating paraphernalia for hours. And we had. "My eyeballs are bleeding," I said.

"It's too pretty outside to be holed up in here, you guys," Rose whined. "We need to kick their asses at volleyball."

"Let 'em drink a few more beers and we'll be down," Alice droned, paging through a decorating book like it held anti-aging secrets.

Rose had been in and out of the room the whole time. She looked pretty fabulous in the long T-shirt she wore over her bikini. Emmett seemed to think so as he'd said, "Damn," every time she crossed his line of vision.

In addition to us Forkies, Vicki and James, were here, Peter, and Tanya having broken with her fiancé. So James had his hands full, or was trying to keep them full. Since my talk with Vickie there had been a change in that she seemed more aware of James when I was around. If he got too attentive, she pulled him back. Sometimes they argued off quietly in the next room and the rest of us pretended not to notice. Tanya and Peter had gotten to know each other through Edward's work. Until now Peter had not known Tanya as other than an engaged woman. I wondered if her new single status would make a difference. Stranger things had happened in this group.

"You're missing the real fireworks," Rose told Alice and me, pretending to pick on a nail.

Alice's head shot up.

"Bitch-fest goin' on," Rose said nonchalantly. "Pullin' on the man-meat," she said.

"Emmett?" Alice asked closing the book she was in with a loud clap.

"Noooo," Rose said. "Not if he wants to live." She glared at us. "Tanya and Vickie."

"Over James?" Alice again, like ewww.

"And…there's some Peter action. You both need to get down here," she said all mysteriously, turning and running away.

"And who?" Alice said. "Those bitches better not touch my Jazzie." She looked so cute in her one-piece haltar suit. Marilyn Monroe's little sister.

I wasn't far behind Alice. Then I caught myself. We weren't in high school. What was I doing?

I stopped in the kitchen and got a bottle of water, taking a couple of long drinks. I wasn't going to be like this. Edward had known Vickie and Tanya for a lot of years, and he'd made vows to me. He'd been very clear about this to me, and he'd never behaved in any way to cast suspicion on who he wanted. Not since we were married especially. I knew he was working with Tanya. Surprisingly it wasn't James who was working with him so much as Peter was getting more involved. Edward and Peter really got along. So I took a long drink of water and sauntered out onto the deck. I didn't want to imagine co-worker Tanya flirting with my husband. I didn't want to get all crazy and start worrying like a jealous maniac.

Imagine my surprise when I spied Edward walking across the yard carrying Tanya in his arms. He walked to one of the loungers by the pool and carefully deposited her scantily clad frame there. His hand stayed on her shoulder as he spoke to her. Carlisle bumped me then, where I stood on the deck, water bottle at an odd angle in my hand. "Excuse me, Bella. Don't worry, she'll be alright."

I wasn't worried. I really wasn't.

Then he scooted past me again, as I was still blocking the narrow stairs that opened onto the pool area and the rest of the yard. Carlisle went to Tanya with a bag of frozen vegetables. Edward was sitting on the lounger, next to her legs. He took the ice from Carlisle and placed it over her ankle. He had his hand on her leg, right above the bag of peas. He was speaking to her, leaning close. I was walking toward them, floating I think, but when I caught myself I made a sharp left, and saw the volleyball players.

"Here comes the replacement team," Emmett said. "Look out."

I was trying not to be the bitch from Forks. We were progressive here in Chicago. Here we just sued one another and drove like harbingers from hell. Other than that we were civil.

"Where do I sign up?" I said. Ha-ha, and ha.

Alice squealed. It was girls against boys. "We love you Tanya," Esme yelled, and Tanya waved. Edward was standing over her, bent down, still speaking. His ass was toward us. I wished I had a blow gun, a poisonous dart or something. Call me crazy.

I was high-fiving my girls. Even Vickie was welcomed. Back in Forks, in the day, Alice, Rose and I ruled on the court. We were fierce and mouthy. Emmett and Jasper were actually doing a bro-scream. They looked ready to play for their lives. They'd seen us in action many a game and it was all coming back to us now.

Edward and Carlisle had finally joined us. Peter was taking over with Tanya. How great. It was my serve. I threw the ball in the air to orient myself. Yeah I was showing off. I knew my little white shorts were the bomb. And my T-shirt was riding up so take that Romeo. He was hooting.

Alice and Rose were hollering at me. It was all good. I served it over, kind of like a work of art, my serve always good and strong, upper body strength no problem after years of toting books around the library. See, when a librarian tells you to be quiet, she is willing to back it up, sucker. At least in Forks.

So yeah, I whacked it over and McCarty jumped high and hit it back, but I was ready, catching it on the wrist, as I went on my knees, sending it to Rose who sent it over. Edward dived, crashing into Emmett, but it arced high and dropped in front of Alice, and she set it to Rose who smashed it over. Too bad James. Score.

Esme and Vickie high-fived since they were kind of relegated to cheerleaders.

And that's how it went. I served five, brought in four points. Emmett was high off of bringing me down but only because Vickie got in my way. If it was Alice or Rose I'd have kept on diving, but I didn't want to smash into Vickie just yet. Not while we were winning. If we dropped behind, the gloves were coming off.

I admit, I was aiming for my husband. I needed interaction, and since we couldn't go off and fight, or fight and have sex, I'd have to substitute smashing the ball his way every chance I got.

The game was intense. It became a silent grunting match between the girls from Forks and the guys from Forks, including the new guy from Forks, my husband and odd man out James. Occassionally Carlisle got to play, but Vickie and Esme knew better. Tanya got off easy with that ankle, because Vickie had a smashed foot where Rose took her down, and Esme was basically a pacifist, but still she got an elbow from Alice. Yeah, we were vicious that way.

For the final point I was up. I flumed it over, just clearing the net. Emmett was so hyped to win he fumbled, and Jazz dived to save it, smacking it to Edward who wasn't close enough, though his effort caused him to belly-flop onto the grass. We girls won.

We were obnoxious about it. Then it was beach blanket bingo. Emmett scooped Alice up and carried her screaming to the pool. He brought her to the water, pretended like he was going to throw her then set her safely on her feet. He wasn't expecting her to unbalance him as soon as her feet hit the tile. She pushed him in, and he grabbed for her dragging her with him.

Big splash. Everyone else jumped in voluntarily. I pulled off my shorts and jumped in. Edward was behind me, a quick hand on my butt, but he couldn't hold me. Water splashing everywhere. He swam up to me and put his arms around me. "You little monster," he said, like delighted, coming in for a kiss and getting my ear. I pushed away and went under, swimming to the bottom. He followed me down. I sat near the drain and pretended to drink tea. Alice had caught on and she swam toward me and sat with me on the bottom of the pool, pretending to refill my cup. I heard Rose shout tea party and she swam down next. The men dove down to take a look. Esme dove in with an underwater camera and took a movie. I had to go up for air, and went back down, passing Alice. When we were situated again Esme kept filming. When we were all up top, we were laughing. Esme plugged the film into the flatscreen that overlooked the pool and put our tea party on a loop. We girls were high fiving again, as obnoxious as we'd been in high school.

Emmett quickly set up water volleyball and we played the next game in the water. James stayed in, but Vickie sat out. Carlisle was grilling and Esme was busy getting lunch. Tanya seemed better. She'd was sitting at the picnic table. Peter appeared to be talking her arm off.

The guys wanted mixed teams this time. I had to get out and pull on my white T-shirt because the sun was getting intense. I quickly jumped back in. Edward, James, myself and now Vickie who rejoined against the four Forkies. We were the Sporkies.

It was exhausting to play in the water. I was a good swimmer, but not great. This was a really big pool, and there was a lot of ground to cover in the deep. Edward kept going under water and copping a feel. I had almost forgiven him for carrying Tanya around like Prince Charming. I mean, what was he going to do, let her walk on an injury? She seemed fine now though. So he'd held her against his bare beautiful chest in his strong sinewy arms? My arms.

That's when the ball hit me in the head.

That night it was fireworks on a blanket. We'd gone to a neighborhood park over the big beachside display. Esme and Carlisle sat a distance away on lawn chairs. James and Vickie had stayed home with Peter and Tanya. They were heavily into drinking and word games. I imagined them all stripping about now.

But the Forkies were here, scattered around on blankets. Edward and I lay on our backs, his arm pillowing my head. We watched the display of colors exploding in the sky over a small lake. Edward sang the Star Spangled Banner to me, his hand playing with a strand of my hair, his other hand holding mine against his flat stomach.

"One year," he told me softly, "Aro took me up in his plane. "1988. He told me then that someday I'd fly one of my own. I can't tell you…seeing him fly that thing."

I rubbed his chest, over his heart. "It never gets easier…letting people go," I said.

"It should be that way," he said. "Right? It should never be easy."

"Yeah," I whispered. "Kiss me."

And he did, reaching for my face, his finger rubbing lightly over my blotchy red cheek. We stared at one another again, pulled back to the display by the booming sounds of the grand finale. Edward took up the anthem again. I knew he was saying good-bye to his friend.


	38. Chapter 38

Catwoman 38

By September I had re-organized the library at church and I was also manning it two mornings a week. Ben, Angela and Riley had just gone home after spending the past couple of days with us. Well, mostly with me. Edward had spent its crux working on rewrites with Peter. They were under the gun with their due date looming.

"It's like they're having a baby, only they're both birthing it simultaneously," I explained.

"I'm sure that's some kind of sin," Ben assured me. "Seriously though, you look good," he'd told me when we alone having coffee in my gray-white kitchen while Angela and Riley still slept.

"I am good. I get lonely. I get homesick. I get mad that Edward works so much and I have to get in line to get a pat on the head…or somewhere else…but hey, it's encased by a lot of love. And it's a good thing. Right?"

He laughed. "Marriage isn't for sissies."

"I know. Look at Angela."

"Yeah, look at Angela. Talk about having to share your husband. There's not a day goes by I don't thank God for such a wife. You know last week I had to pull a knife out of someone's Lazy Boy?"

"Who's?"

"Can't say. You know. You'll find it in last week's paper though, back page. The knife was meant for the husband, and he managed to roll out of the way in the nick of time."

"So you messed with the crime scene?"

"Jacob called me in."

"So you're like Watson to his Sherlock?"

Ben laughed. "He wanted me to speak to the couple because the woman wouldn't press charges…and she should have years ago but…I've spoken to them so many times. I nearly sat on the knife, and Jacob said, well they all said, "Look out," and I thought I was about to sit on a cat, but there was the knife…could have done some real damage…so I pulled it out…of the chair…and laid it on the coffee table between all of us, and Jacob," he laughs here, "Jacob kind of rises out of his chair and quietly takes the knife and sits back down." He's laughing in earnest now. "Oh…the things they don't cover in seminary."

"Yeah, and then Angela works for Sherlock…and that's almost as bad as the crap she has to put up with from our congregation, right? I'm surprised she can even speak to the people of Forks."

"I know!" he agrees, his bed hair smashed in the funniest pattern. "She's amazing. I'm the most blessed man…."

"You are," I agree, scrunching my nose at him, and we both drink coffee at the same time. In some crazy way he's given me perspective.

So they had just left leaving me feel more alone than before they came. I loved them so much. All those Forkies. What was I doing in Chicago? Oh yeah. My husband. The man who owned my heart.

Such long hours with Peter. And Tanya. Such long hours. I was packing a lunch now, ready to take it to his office. He no longer tried to work at home. He worked in the high rise where the foundation was located. The idea was that he could be on hand with Peter to handle the projects, hold meetings with clients, do the rewrites. Peter was working part time for the foundation. He was a shoe-in.

So I viewed my husband as I might view a kite, attached to me by a string, far away, but still attached if I kept a really good grip on the string. As for my control…the wind had taken over.

When I arrived at his office, hand-held cooler disguised as a cute tote bag, at least to me, still ignorant of what gave such things away as cheap knock offs not worthy of a second glance, I was pretty excited to surprise Edward. I knew he came with Peter attached at the hip these days, so I'd brought enough food for the both of them. I made Edward's favorite humus, and the homemade sesame seed crackers. There was a great Greek salad, and sandwiches.

Tanya's sprawling immaculate desk was empty, and Edward's door was slightly ajar. I knocked, but nothing. Edward's office was part of a three room suite, a large meeting room where his desk was arranged before a glass wall that overlooked the city, and a shared second room with a couch and a large table for meetings. The second room opened into Peter's new office, which used to be Aro's. The two of them held court in the center room as their dead line drew closer.

I walked through the first empty space. No sign of life. Into the second room and there he was sitting on the couch, head lolling to the side, arms relaxed, legs straight and wide, heels planted on the carpeted floor, tie pulled sideways, top two buttons open, hair a crazy riot. He was sound asleep.

And beyond that room and the closed door leading to Peter's office, muffled sound, then silence. A bang. Silence. I listened for a moment, nothing.

I turned back to my husband. He snored on an intake, and woke himself up. He saw me, rubbed over his face, cupped his mouth and stared at me. Then he straightened up quickly and held out his arms, "Bella."

I set my purse and the tote bag on the conference table and went to him.

"Oh Baby, what a pleasant surprise," he whispered pulling me into his warmth.

He gave me a big wet kiss, and I kissed him back, then he groaned and kissed me a little longer this time until I pulled back and said, "Must breathe," and he laughed. Then we sat there for a minute, heads touching, recharging. So we heard it really clearly, even with the great acoustics, Tanya yelling out, "Peter!"

My first thought was climax. Edward's, I would discover later, was heart attack. Blame Aro.

So he was the one to bolt from the couch and barrel through the closed door leading to Peter's office. Then he kind of froze there, one step in, hand still on the doorknob. And I had to look around him to see what had him stuck.

I saw Tanya's arm, the blouse slipping up it, they were saying something, well Peter was, and I put my hands on my husband's shoulders and pulled him from the room, closing the door behind us.

He sat on the roof, on the wall running around the building's perimeter, a sandwich in his hand, not a bite out of it. The wind was moving his hair around, his jaw flexed as he stared off. I sat beside him, unable to look out and down like he could. I kept my eyes on him. "Eat something," I said.

"How could I miss it?" Him.

"People have sex, Edward."

"At work?" he shot back, then closed his eyes realizing he'd been brusque. How could I tell him that in a sick way I was relieved? I'd always suspected she had a thing for Edward. I was relieved she'd gone in another direction.

"I trusted him. Trusted her."

I thought of how he'd duped everyone with the suicide attempt, and they'd forgiven him. She'd forgiven him. Or had she?

But he read my mind. "I guess I'm a great one to talk about betrayal."

"Edward…you're trustworthy. I think you've learned something about that. I certainly trust you. Granted I haven't been thrilled about a couple of the women in your life, but…I trust you. You've also earned back the foundation's trust."

"Thank you, Bella. You're the only woman in my life, just so you know. Well…and Esme. But you're it. Remember the wedding?" He squeezed my hand, then lifted it to his lips and kissed my knuckles. "The thing of it is, I'm grooming Tanya to take over."

Grooming Tanya? That was just a bad picture. I shook it off and tried to listen.

"I was hoping Peter would assist her. He's really good at public relations. He has such a great understanding of business and people naturally gravitate toward him. She has the ability to lead, but he has the people skills."

"Ah…yeah," I said, and even he had to laugh a little. "But, take over? You're heading the foundation." Looks like he wasn't the only one who was clueless.

"Bella, I made the decision to step down from that a long time ago. Of course with Aro…I had to step up. I'll always have a hand in things…but as a consultant. Tanya and Peter are…they remind me of Aro and myself. They can be such a great team. But sex…it's always the killer."

"Really?" I pull back my chin.

He laughed. "There's no commitment. They're just…how did I miss this? The sexual tension must have been brewing. I thought it was all about the deadline. Actually they've been at one another's throats more than once. I was worried they really didn't like each other. Just when I'd decide that they'd be friendly again. I completely missed it."

"Eat your sandwich."

He dutifully takes a bite, then seems to wake up to it. "This is really good," he says swallowing and taking another bite.

"So…you only plan to consult?"

"Yeah. This is so good, baby." He was attacking the sandwich. It was nearly gone.

"When were you going to tell me this?"

He's licking his fingers. I hand him a napkin and he wipes his hands. "As soon as I got some confirmation from them. If they didn't work out…and now I don't know if they will…I didn't want to build you up just to let you down. I wanted to surprise you. I was waiting for the rewrites to finish. Then I was going to promote Tanya and propose the assistant position to Peter as a permanent spot. I think he sees it coming, he'd be blind not to, but I've kept him hanging on purpose. He's been working like a machine in order to prove himself. I know Peter. He's at his best when he's trying to win. Once he wins, he gets bored. Right now he's been working like a fiend. He sets the pace, and believe me, I know I've paid a big price with you to keep up. I haven't known how to bring it up. The sin you're the least comfortable discussing is the one you're still committing. Baby I've leaned on you…I've been letting you carry the ball all on your own. I kept telling myself I'll make it up to you…it's just until the rewrites, and then I can step back."

"I just need you to talk to me. You've had all of this in your head and you didn't share any of it. It makes me feel…unimportant to you."

He pulls me onto his lap. I feel so much safer on this ledge with him holding me. "Bella…if it wasn't for you…none of this…I…you're my life. This fell on me and…I knew I had to step in and you're right, I…I just carried it, I thought I was fixing it and protecting you from it. It's enough I made you leave Forks…your job…I took everything and I haven't been there for you. I'm like a vampire just sucking the blood out of you. But in my stupid defective way…I was trying to get through it so we could be together more. I've relied on you so heavily to keep me grounded. You don't know what it's meant to have you in my life…to come home to you…to have a home with you. Making love," he squeezes me. "You're so strong. You're such a light. You're my reason. I know it's…shit. I'm even horrible at words…with you. But I feel them."

"Edward you can't shut me out. All of this was going on in your head. I didn't know if this was how it was going to be…I didn't know if you even needed me…or maybe you're sorry…and it's strange here…I'm finding my way but…Ben said something…just something stupid about Forks…him and Angela. And marriage is just hard sometimes, and you try…and you just keep trying. But if you're grateful for each other…and they are, he didn't say all of this, but these are my conclusions, if you keep forgiving and talking and you are both in, then it's okay. And I'm still grateful for you. I still love you. It's growing. I didn't think it was possible, but it's growing."

So we made out on that ledge until the sun dipped behind a big cloud and large drops of rain started to fall. When we went back inside, in the stairwell that led to the floors below, he was carrying everything, but he still managed to keep his arm around me as we walked. "We have a meeting with a client this afternoon. How the hell am I going to be in the same room with them? It's so embarrassing. I mean…you didn't see what I saw," he groaned.

"What did you see?"

He laughed. "I can't tell you now. I'm really not ready to think about it."

I was trying to laugh, but I didn't like it. "You will tell me," I said.

He kept laughing. "This is so fucked."

"You guys will surely have to talk before that meeting," I said.

"There's no time," he said. "Maybe that's good. Maybe we need to remember we're colleagues before we throw down."

"Spoken like a true Forkie," I said. Not the colleagues part, but the throw down part for sure.


	39. Chapter 39

Catwoman 39

I spent the rest of the afternoon having my hair done with Esme. I had an inch off the long length, and the bottom a bit layered, and side swept bangs trimmed. They'd put on a shade darker rinse, and I'd had my brows done and enough eye make up on to bring out my eyes, and dark red lips. Esme went on about me, saying how Edward Cullen wasn't going to know what hit him, not that I needed any of it, because that boy was so besotted already, she said. Then she told the stylist and anyone else who was listening, and women in salons are all ears whenever men are discussed, how her nephew was so in love with me they hardly recognized him from the closed off, all business and no play man he'd been before we'd met. Now I became the object of much speculation. The blonde stylist that worked on Esme asked if she had anymore nephews, as she'd been dating a string of losers and momma's boys. I wanted to say, sister there's only one Edward Cullen. And I've got him. But I remained humble, and quiet while Esme told them my business and they looked me over from head to toe the way women do while I turned a flaming red. When that was over Esme insisted I get a new dress, which I did, a front zip black bandage dress, above the knee, form fitting. "You've got such a darling figure, and those hips, girl." And the sales lady agreed, anything to make a sale I'm sure, and I wanted to crawl in the nearest hole and hide, but I had to admit, it was flattering.

Then she insisted on buying me a pair of nude heels to go with the dress. The bill, which she insisted was none of my business, was well over a thousand dollars. And this because of how much I'd helped her lately. I wanted to argue. I was horrified, actually. But she wouldn't hear it. "Shut it," she told me. And she'd insisted I wear everything that evening when I met Edward. When I tried to put up one last protestation, she pushed the hand down that held my credit card, and she told me, "This is nothing. I want…no I need to be able to do this. You have no idea how elated Carlisle and I are that you are Edward's wife. I meant what I told those ladies. He's a different man because of you."

So…while Esme went home to Carlisle, I left to meet Edward for dinner at our favorite Thai restaurant. I arrived first wearing my short white trench coat over my new clothes. But it was warm in the restaurant, so I took off the coat and gave it to the girl to check. I didn't want to hang around in the lobby, because the bar was right there, and the dress was getting some attention. This must be what Rosalie felt like every day of her life.

I told myself to grow up and own the darn dress and the naked shoes so I marched over to the hostess and gave her Edward's name as he'd made a reservation. She led me to a table for two smack in the heart of the packed red walled dining room. A few heads turned my way, and I tried not to gulp. I thought again of Rose, or Vickie or even Tanya. They'd work their stuff, but that wasn't me. I guess if you have over a thousand bucks to spend on a dress you can actually get something that enhances everything. I just wished Edward was here.

I was looking around and caught the eye of one of the handsome young chefs who were stir-frying freshly chopped food on a kettle-type surface in an open space at the front of the dining room. He smiled, and I smiled back. He threw his paddles in the air and caught them, giving me another look, like he did that for me. I had to laugh. He was so exuberant. Then he called out to the chef working at a kettle beside him, "Hot dish." And that chef looked at me, too. What? The first chef grinned, and I grabbed my water and took a big drink. Hot dish?

I turned in my chair to look toward the lobby for Edward. He had just entered. A fresh crisp white shirt showed under his gray suit jacket. I knew he kept spares in his office. His eyes went to me across the busy, crowded room. The young dark-haired receptionist was grinning ear to ear as she led him to our table. Her high-heels were clacking, and her hips in her short black dress were swaying. "Here you are, Mr. Cullen. Let me know if I can get you anything." She touched his arm as she turned and clicked her way back to her station. I tried not to smirk, but for real?

Edward didn't seem to notice. He truly lived in a bubble of preoccupation. Sometimes that preoccupation seemed to be over me. I will say this, when he was done with work he didn't seem to bring it home. He was truly mine. Now, his gaze was on me. Even in the dim light, right on me. I could see his eagerness to be with me, in his handsome, tired eyes. Before he sat he leaned over and kissed me. "You look stunning," he said and kissed me again before god and everybody.

He sat eagerly. "Where did you get this?" He touched my hair, then ran his hand down my arm and pulled the tablecloth aside so he could look at my lap, down my legs to my shoes. The chefs were watching and talking.

I pulled the tablecloth back over my lap. "Esme."

His hand was on my thigh. The waitress came then, and he ordered without looking at a menu. Then he ordered for me. Then he kissed me again. "What's with sitting us in the middle of the damn room?"

"It's so crowded, I don't think it matters," I said.

The waitress brought our ginger-spiced drinks.

"My Bella," he said leaning toward me. "You take my breath away," his lips grazed my ear. I actually shivered to feel his breath against my neck. He scooted his chair closer then and put his arm along the back of my chair, playing with the ends of my hair. "This feels like silk," he said.

His hair told the story of his day, combed to no avail. The thick waywardness of it was always an emotional declaration of how things were going whether he realized it or not. When he'd been pulling on it, it showed. I so badly wanted to touch his hair, him, every where.

"How did the meeting go?"

With his free hand he took a sip of his drink. He licked his perfect lips. "Well, Tanya is gone."

"What?" I thought I'd misheard.

He shrugged. "Yeah…it was awkward as hell, then it just went to shit."

"Maybe…."

"No. She's out."

"What did she say?"

He stared at me a moment, seeming to take me in. "Right now looking at you? I don't care. How did I get so lucky? I move to Forks and there's this goddess across the street."

"Um…you're so full."

He moved his nose along my neck. This was more PDA than I'd known him to show in the past. "What's with you?" I asked, squirming a little.

His face was close to mine. I reached and touched his soft scruff.

"I don't care about any of it. I'm here with you. I have everything." His eyes were languid with lust. He looked at my chest, my waist, my lap, "Go to the restroom so I can look at you. I want to see this whole thing. I want to see my sweet little ass as it waves good-bye. And then my tits as they say hello."

I giggled. "Are you drunk?"

He took another sip of his ginger beer. "Drunk on you, baby."

"I do have to pee."

"Perfect," his hand ghosted over my side, to my hip and beneath the tablecloth where he let his hand slide between my legs and squeezed my thigh.

"Okay, I'll do it, but remember, I'm shaking this ass for you, and not the chef who called me hot dish."

"What?" he looked around, gaze freezing on the chefs. "Which one, I'll kick his ass."

I laughed again. "Not answering," I sang, getting up and smoothing over my skirt as he stared at me, his mouth open, an evil grin in his eyes.

"Hot dish," the chef called out. Edward's head snapped around. I watched him stand and throw the napkin that had been on his lap onto the table. The chefs saw this and immediately got into their cooking, not looking up. The waitress brought our food then. Edward looked at me. I motioned with my hands for him to sit, which he did, snatching back his napkin. I gave him a coy smile. He quickly smiled back as she began to set the food before him.

A few minutes later when I exited, he was waiting, sitting back in the chair, arms folded across his chest, eyes smoldering as he watched my approach. He looked unabashedly at my chest, then lower, to the shoes. "Hot dish," he said standing to hold my chair out for me. He pushed me in a little, dragged his hand along my shoulder as he sat as close as the small round table allowed. We fed one another a few bites of our food. He kissed me often between bites. His foot was plastered against mine. He often squeezed my thigh, and he told me I was beautiful a dozen times.

He slipped my coat up my arms after dinner. When it was on he helped me pull my hair free. "Like silk," he whispered again, hands pressing my shoulders.

He followed me home. We pulled into our garage side by side. He was at my door holding it wide before I could exit. He held my hand into the house. He took my coat once in there and even hung it in the hall closet. He wanted to dance. "You pick," he said, opening a bottle of wine. I put the best song ever made on, and he took off his jacket, kicked off his shoes and rolled his white sleeves to the elbow. Then he took me in his arms, his hands roving over me, coming to rest on my hips so he could hold me tight against him while he kissed me slow, and ran his face along the side of mine. He took one of my hands and pulled me into his with the other arm. He moved with me slow and close, in no hurry. I kicked off my shoes, and my feet stepped into the thick white rug as I moved with him. Jeff Buckley sang Forget Her, "She was heartache from the moment that you met her." And my head fell back while he kissed my neck with his mouth open, then he moved his lips to my shoulder. His hand worked between us, and he pulled gently at the zipper at my throat. Slowly he pulled it, over my breasts, my stomach, where it stopped around my navel. He peeled back the shoulders and rolled the dress from my arms as his hands slid against my limbs. I shimmied free and put my hands around his strong neck once more. Then my hand moved to thread his buttons through the holes. All the while we swayed to the music. He pressed me against him. I moved my shoulder slowly, rolling my breasts against him in time to the sexy beat of the music. He splayed his hands on my back and nuzzled me with his face.

He unfastened my lacy bra and pealed it from me, shrugging out of his shirt and allowing me to peal off his undershirt. Then we pressed our flesh against one another. He rubbed his hands all over my back. I couldn't stand upright if he wasn't holding me so tight. His hands went to my waist, and he pushed the dress past my hips, it quickly slid down my legs and I stepped out of it. The music changed and picked up then, Terry Reid Superlungs Supergirl. He spun me out fifties style, me in my panties shaking my breasts, him still wearing his pants and socks laughing and groaning. We did a poor version of the jitter bug laughing, my breasts bouncing. He slammed against me, and Adele came on singing Hometown, as he kissed me with fire. When I was weak from that, he picked me up bridal style and spun me around and around, and we crashed onto the couch laughing. I was on my back, he was over me, standing quickly to strip down. I moved so he could lay and face me, and I stretched against him as we kissed in our dark living room and the music poured over us. His hand moved up and down my side studying my curves. I knew what he thought, he was very appreciative, loved the curve of my waist, the swell of my hip, the jut of my ass, the length of my thigh, the shape of my calve, the tenderness of my foot. He'd made this clear so many times, but it never grew old. Laying on our sides, skin touching, chests moving with passionate breathes, he said, "Do you love me?"

"Yes, you know I love you, I love you."

"Hold me, as tight as you can."

And I did. We were sealed.

He pulled my leg over his hip and entered me. I lost myself then, pulling him into me, crying his name, a litany of love, "Edward, Edward."

Tears in my eyes, desperate kisses, him pushing into me, up, up, arms so tight around me, hands moving to my bottom, gripping me, holding me against him as he drove us into release.


	40. Chapter 40

Catwoman 40

The great Forks population explosion started with Rose. They announced it in October, the same day they told us about the secret wedding they'd had in Vegas. I didn't think Alice would ever recover.

Angela was next. Possibly twins. Ben was ecstatic as he wanted, "a full quiver." Angela told him if she heard him say that one more time she would find a quiver, fill it with rocks and beat him with it.

For Alice and Jasper it wasn't going to be so easy. I already knew, "they were trying," and they were seeing a specialist in Port Angeles.

Esme was so happy for each of the women. The pressure was on.

Edward was still working with Peter, and their book, "Good Business," was due to be published around the first of the year. I was officially working part time with Esme and taking design classes.

Today we were gathered at our home in Forks. Rose was moving in with Emmett and we had met to help her pack and so we could winterize the house. After dinner, I'd snuck outside to visit Cottonball's grave. She had died peacefully over the summer, having lived a good cat's life. Jasper had buried her here, marking the spot with a grouping of rocks. She had lived fifteen years.

I heard the back door close, and knew it was Edward. "Hey Forkie," he called, moving up behind me. He slid his arms around me and pressed his head against mine. We stood that way, quietly recharging. "Having a good time?" he asked after a while.

I turned to look at him. "Yes."

We resumed the recharge position. "She was a really awesome cat," he said, and I had to laugh a little.

"Yeah. She sure liked your pillow."

Now he laughed a little. "Yeah. She did. But…Boots and Cuddles are looking fit."

I turned in his arms. "I know what you're doing."

He puckered for a kiss and I obliged him quickly. "What am I doing?" he said.

"Trying to distract me."

"I just want attention," he whined kissing me again. "You're sad."

I shrugged. "Just thoughtful."

"We'll always have this place," he said his hands working their way under my sweater.

"I don't know," I picked at the top button on his shirt.

He took hold of my hand and held it over his heart while the other hand brought me as close as possible. "What is it?"

Tears filled my eyes and I shook my head, staring at his throat.

"Baby what is it?" He bent his knees to bring himself eye level, picking up my gaze and standing tall again.

"It doesn't make sense to keep this place."

"It does. We'll always be tied to Forks."

"But we don't need a house sitting here empty like some kind of bizarre monument. It was one thing when Rose was in it, I could think of it that way. But now, sitting here empty…a family should have it. It needs loved or with the harsh weather it will just deteriorate, and that's harder to bear somehow."

I was full on crying now.

He rubbed over my back. "Bella, Jasper is right across the street. I've already spoken to him. He'll take care of it."

"But…we're never coming back here. Why do you keep pretending we are? I can't live in two different places, Edward. I'm not like that."

"Of course you're not, honey. I thought you liked the condo. But maybe not? Maybe we need to look for a house? Talk to me, Bella. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't belong anywhere?"

"What?"

"I don't. I…this isn't home anymore. Not really. I don't want to come back here. I mean I would…but I don't have to."

"Okay, honey. Okay. We don't have to come back here. Of course I'll do what you want. Listen to me. I've made you give up so much."

"Stop saying that?"

"Okay, honey. I'll never say that again. What should I say?"

"Don't placate me."

His mouth was in a hard line like he was trying to hold in his words. His eyes were so riveted on me I wanted to laugh. And scream.

"I don't want you to apologize for what I supposedly 'gave up' when I married you. I didn't give up anything. I got. I'm ahead. There's no big debit column. It's not like that. When you love someone you make changes. I don't deserve some kind of medal for being normal."

"Alright," he said, clamping his lips again.

"Stop being like a yes man. One of the first things that attracted me to you was how opinionated you were. Now…you don't want to bother."

A gush of air burst through his lips. "My balls are officially busted now."

Now I did laugh. Sort of. "I'm not wanting to bust your balls."

"My bad."

I slapped his chest. "Stop."

"Bella, I don't want to argue. There's no argument here. I don't want to rush into selling the house. There's no reason. And part of our life is here. This is you. I'm not getting rid of it. Not now. Someday we might come back."

"That's bull, Edward. Let me move on."

"I am letting you move on. We've moved on. But let's not burn our bridges. This is your history, baby."

"I don't belong anywhere. They're all pregnant and they know where they belong, and I come back here and…this isn't home. You're my home. Chicago…I'm working on it. It's better. I know I belong with you, but…I don't know. I'm in transition."

"I thought you were loving our life. You've seemed happy."

"I am happy, but being here…it's stirred some things."

He takes my hands in his. "If you weren't so beautiful that you take my breath away…and if I wasn't so crazy about you that I can't think of anything else when we're apart…and if I didn't love you to distraction…I'd never work this hard. But…let's go to the lookout."

And that's what we did. We didn't tell the others, didn't say we'd be back, we just left and Edward drove us there. He pulled up to the spot and held me in the front seat of Jasper's truck.

I was crying again. We looked out at the foggy Fork's vista and I cried. "I don't want to have a baby yet," I said.

He kissed my temple. "That's fine. You and I are fine. There's no pressure. No one else has anything to do with us. We'll make our own decisions."

"Am I enough for you?"

"More than. More than."

"Too much?"

"Bella…you're perfect. I haven't changed my mind, and I won't be. You are my everything. Don't I tell you enough? Don't I show you?"

"Yes. You're the perfect one."

"Me?" He laughs, and kisses me. When he kisses me, I can't protest. His kisses stun me into submission. I am putty. His lips move and I'm so overwhelmed by how delicious they taste and in turn make me feel, and in awe of how good he is with them, I can't do anything else but receive and go crazy. He gets me squirmy and frantic, but he must keep kissing me because I am never, ever tired of it.

I run my hand over his jaw and down his neck. His heart hammers in his meaty chest, and his stomach is so lean I can easily slip my hand into his pants, especially since he always sucks his abs in invitation.

"Oh good-boy," I say.

"Yep, that's me," he answers, looking down, and I can see the tip of his penis, and I move my hand down the bulge of it, and he undoes his button and zipper, and I can touch him then, and he throws back his head and grinds his teeth, and says my name like he's trying to rebuke me, but not really, more like he's at my mercy. Again.

I grip him and I love this. It's like we're teenagers making out in Daddy's car. He wants to see my tits. He says this, "Let me see your tits." He's pulling at my sweater, pulling it up with my bra, and there they are, and you'd think he'd never seen them before, well he's always that way, having to see them at every opportunity as if he needs reminded that they're there and available, and he's never disappointed in them, like they're somehow unique or the best, and they are pretty damn fine, but still, he's very enthused. "Oh god, I love them," he says, diving for them.

"Come to Mama," I say, cradling his head as he sucks. He favors the right, but he always gives the left some attention too. He laughs and then he's not laughing just groaning, and loud and licky and his eyes are drunk with lust, which always makes me attack that mouth as soon as it's available.

He pushes me back on the seat, yanks at my pants to get them open. I help him slip them down. I push at his, and we get them down enough that he can spring free and get inside of me, and then we rock that truck, and the windows are covered in steam, and somehow he honks the horn with his foot, and we laugh, but not really, because we are going at it like the fate of the world…I go first, and I'm screaming his name, and then he rams me once more and he tells me he loves me, and we are still, everything still while we soar for a silent monumental moment. Then him, "You're gonna kill me, baby."

Me, "I just did."

We lay there for a while, kiss a little, rest a little, then we right our clothes, help each other get right, get smoothed.

"Let's just leave the house for now," he says. "Let's think about it for a while. She's just moving out."

"I know," I agree. But in a way, all day, I've been letting it go.

When we're back home in Chicago, I spend the week manning a booth with Esme at Chicago's home show. We wear black pant suits, not matching, but similar, and we hand out brochures and talk to people all day long for several days. I am having the time of my life. I can sell. Who knew? Our booth is kind of kick ass too, showing a good mix of color and texture. We're pretty popular.

Edward and Carlisle have shown up at various times. Both men seem very proud. Esme fears we'll get more work than we can handle, but I assure her we are up for it. I'm like on fire, and she says my fearlessness is rubbing off on her. But we're good at listening to one another. I'm definitely the submissive one because I don't know what the heck I'm doing, but she's actually more submissive by nature. I love her openness. She treats me with kindness and respect.

So we're a great team. When James shows up I'm in a deep conversation with a contractor who has a booth in the next isle. He's interested in Esme and I decorating several show houses in an upscale subdivision. I've just finished being charming for a half an hour and exchanging information when I head back to our booth and see James with Esme. Esme is beaming because James hasn't been around much lately. He's been doing a lot of traveling for his work. "Bella, look who's here," she gushes.

"James," I say.

His wheat colored hair is long enough to be in a pony tail. He wears this with a blue shirt and jeans. He's obviously shopping as he's holding a lot of paperwork.

"Hey Bella," he says, taking my hand and squeezing. I pull my hand away, and he makes it difficult by keeping a grip.

"James has a new loft," Esme says.

"Of course I want you to decorate it," he says to me, his natural smirk in place. I want to tell Esme about the conversation I just had with the contractor, but I don't want James to know any of our business.

"This would be a great project to take on to get your feet wet, Bella," Esme said. "James will be great to work for, and you can try out some of your ideas."

"Of course, I have veto power," he said, "but I'm really open to trying new things. I'm experimental. Anything goes if I like it," he says. Esme seems unaware that her son speaks in sexual innuendo.

"I don't know," I say, and can immediately see Esme's confusion. "I mean…I'm not ready…."

"Nonsense. You can help James, it will free me to sketch new ideas for some of the work we've taken on, and you can use his place for that class project you were telling me about. He'll love what you do. You're two peas in a pod."

"How so?" I ask.

"You both like the same things! I swear you could be related." She bustles off then to a young couple who've stopped to ask a question about one of the colors she's painted our backdrop.

I look at James, and he's trying not to laugh. "C'mon, Bella. I don't bite."

"Promise?" I say. "I haven't committed to anything."

"You'll do it." He looks at his mother. "For her."

I look at darling Esme as she prattles on to the young couple. He's right. How can I tell her no?


	41. Chapter 41

Catwoman 41

Edward groaned when I told him about working for James. We were sitting in our kitchen finishing dinner. I'd made a kale and goat cheese frittata. It was so delicious I was licking my fork.

"You know how he is," he warned. "Just tell Esme no. If you want me to…."

I shook my head. "She showed me the space and Edward, it's the perfect opportunity. No one will have a project like this."

"Then you're going to have to be ready to handle him."

"I know that. I'm not a child."

"I don't mean to treat you like one, but you can't blame me for feeling protective."

"Esme works with contractors all the time. I haven't exactly been in a bubble my whole life. Horny college boys, remember?"

"I know you can handle yourself, Forkie, but James is his own brand of complications. Just don't get held hostage to his bad behavior. There's sexual harassment, if nothing else. Treat him like you would any client who's got the potential to be an asshole. And you're taking my mace." Edward kept mace for the occasional dog problem when he jogged.

"I'm not taking your mace. I know James. Maybe he's getting closer to Vickie and he's finally growing up."

He looked at me, strong green roofed by his thick brows. "Take the mace."

So I started by meeting James for coffee. This was an informal way to set some ground rules. My partner on this job was a young, attractive, single woman. I wanted him to understand that though related, I expected our relationship to be, at all times, a professional one.

I opened my little speech with being grateful for the opportunity to decorate his loft. "I'll wait until my partner Jeanine is with me for the intake interview. I was hoping I could meet with you now to clear the air." I smiled sweetly.

"Clear the air?" he asked, bored as usual, as he took a sip of his double espresso. He was wearing dark gray athletic wear as he'd just finished his workout. That's what he'd told me on the phone when we'd made the appointment, "See you after my workout."

"Yeah. I want to thank you for letting Esme show Jeanine and I around your place so we could make a decision. We definitely want the job, but I have some hesitations and I thought I'd meet with you ahead of time to talk them out." Now I took a sip of my mocha latte. "And, of course, if you have any hesitations seeing we're students…."

As I lowered my cup his hand was coming toward me, the corner of my mouth, as he said, "You've got foam."

Reflexes took over and I knocked his hand away as I quickly wiped my mouth with my napkin.

"Whoa, relax," he snapped, frowning as he took another drink.

"Okay, yeah, that was a teaching moment," I said holding his snide little gaze.

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Do you even care if we decorate your loft?" I asked, disappointment right there as I really wanted this opportunity.

"Is that a standard question? Cause I can tell you right now…it sucks." Another sip.

"Sorry. About the question. Not about your hand…." I drummed my fingers and sighed. "Are you like a professional asshole or something?"

He blurts a laugh. "I know that's not standard."

"No…in your case…it is. I guess I'll do everything in pink. Asshole pink?"

He laughs some more. "Ooookay." He kills off the coffee.

"My partner in doing this project is an attractive, kind woman named Jeanine. Your assholery is lost on me, but she might actually buy into it, not knowing you as I do, so I'm just wondering…can you be professional or am I wasting my time beginning something that I'll probably have to abandon when your behavior becomes intolerable? This is my practicum and I need this grade…"

"What did I ever do to you? I could care less if you take the project. Esme will step in like she always does. Maybe the question should be can YOU act like a professional and finish what you start?" He is slouched in his chair, which is pushed back from the table where people have to squeeze around him. His legs are spread wide and his hands are in the pockets of his hoodie. There's not a spare ounce of flesh on him, but he's muscular. He's shorter than Edward. His hair is wet from the shower he must have taken at his nearby gym, and it's pulled back in the ponytail he favors. He reeks of confidence, but I don't know where he draws from.

"We don't have to be friends, but can we agree to make the project the priority?" Me.

"So what are we, enemies?"

"No…you know what I mean."

"Then why are we having this meeting? Why am I asking you questions you don't answer? You call me names…you look at me like you're the Queen of England. You insinuate that I'll misbehave like some degenerate. Where do you get off?" He is stony cold. Not a fidgeter. I remember Edward's words about not letting him hold me hostage to his bad behavior.

"I don't want to be enemies. I'm just saying we can have a mutually beneficial, respectful working relationship. Afterall, I'm here to serve you, and I'm asking for a clear playing field to do that."

He stares at me and sighs. "That was a lot of adjectives."

"You know we've had an awkward history. We really don't have to be around each other that much at all. Esme can be at our intake meetings, if she's available and if you think that will help. But in truth, I didn't want to give her more work, I was hoping to be able to stand on my own two feet with this. But I'm really thinking it won't work out. You certainly haven't convinced me otherwise, and I apparently frustrate you. So yeah, I'm thinking I need to thank you for the opportunity, but say, I think I'll have to walk away." I start to gather my stuff so disheartened that I've talked my self out of the best canvas for my final grade project that is ever going to present itself.

"Relax. Are you always this wired? How does Edward live with this?"

"I don't know. He loves me…I love him."

He reaches for my wrist. I don't like his hands on me, and I'm glaring at the contact, and he slowly pulls away and resumes the sprawling posture, hands back in the pockets.

"I want you to do it. And the wonderful…woman…the other one. It's a good deal for me see as I only buy materials and Esme has veto power. As for Esme, she's a little too predictable for me. I'd like to see what you'd do…how you'd interpret me…unless it is asshole pink." His brows are raised. They are thinner than Edward's and not as expressive, but I get it.

This was a speech. I'm kind of flummoxed. Beware, my inner voice chides. Beware. 'Interpreting him,' sounds creepy and sexual the way he's said it. I want to be a smart ass and blurt, "It's not intercourse." But I don't, of course. Best not to verbalize the deed in any of its forms.

So I go into this job with a healthy load of dread. When Jeanine and I told our teacher where the project was located, he was giddy. If we didn't mess it up too badly, we were guaranteed an A. At least in my opinion.

So we met at the same coffee shop two weeks later for the intake interview. This time James wore a suit, black, white shirt. Janine literally gasped as he entered the shop. She knew him from looking him up on the computer. She told me she liked his eyes. That right there told me she hadn't learned a thing from her no good first husband. For me it was all in the eyes, and James' were squinty and full of deception. There was no draw there, nothing to love as he loved himself in a big way.

Here is the next sentence out of Jeanine's mouth after James sits down, "Hi. I'm Jeanine."

He nods and says, "It's colder out there than an Eskimo's pussy."

I kid you not.

Jeanine says, here's the sentence I was trying to get to, "So…yeah…um…what?"

So, yeah, um, what. Say it three times, it's almost a rap. But it didn't make me feel like she was unaffected by the douche in a suit. I know, that's not exactly the right attitude toward a client. Or anyone (and I'm thinking of Ben here, and his many attempts to challenge me on how I view the 'hard to love.') but…

I can see that focusing on the project is all up to me. James may look like a successful young executive who has Chicago by the tail, but he talks like a deviant from the big house.

"Jeanine, this is our client, James, a gynecologist and expert on Eskimo culture."

"You're a doctor?" she asks in her Kentuckian accent, so 'doctor' is 'doctah.'

_Don't say Love Doctor, don't say Love Doctor, don't say Love Doctor._

He scoots his chair up to the table, places his elbows on its round top, steeples his hands, gives her a 'let's get naked' smile and says, "Doctor of love."

At dinner Edward asks me, "So how's it going?"

"How's what going?" I ask, my eyes wide and round. Then I take another bite of my spaghetti, "This is good, by the way."

He has cooked. He almost never does. No time. But he likes to, I know that. He loves good, home-cooked food. "Esme taught James and me to make one dish so we could go into the world able to keep ourselves from starvation. It also helped to impress the girls."

"So girls weren't just for…boinking…but for feeding?" I ask inhaling another big bite.

"Something like that. She was always trying. She wanted us to view girls as human beings. She did school us to be gentlemen. I don't know how much of it took, but we had the way more effective thing, Carlisle's example toward Esme. He just lived it. He loved her everyday and treated her like the queen she is. That's the best thing. It caught up to me finally."

"And James? Is a proper attitude toward women like, chasing him doing the Zombie walk?"

Edward laughs. "Is he already ruining it?"

I can't believe it when tears sting the backs of my eyes. Am I kidding? Tears? "He can't ruin it unless I let him. He can talk about all of the …pussy he wants to. I won't let him ruin it."

Edward dropped his fork and wiped his lips. He pushed back his chair and stood, walking with indignation straightening his back as he went straight to his cell phone and said, "James."

I hurried to him and tried to yank the arm that held the phone to his ear. He withstood me. I was a flea on his sleeve. He pushed me away and moved around the island so I couldn't assault him.

"How you doing?" he said, very calm. "Yeah, it's me. It hasn't been that long, has it? I just wanted to tell you…I really appreciate you giving my Bella this opportunity." There was a pause here and I could hear the slow drone of James' voice, but not make out the words.

"Edward," I hissed, but he ignored me.

"That's great. Yeah, she's a great person. Yeah, she's got a great ass. Tits? Yeah. And James…you sick freak? Say the word pussy around my wife again, and I'll shove your teeth down your throat and then…I'll hit you with a sexual harassment suit, and I don't care how long it takes, I'll make you cry like a bitch before I end a little harassment of my own. See you Christmas." He shut the phone and stared at me.

"I…."

"He's sixteen years old. That's all the further he got. So you have to deal with him accordingly. Next, I'll take a bat to his car."

"You will not! You're getting on his level! I'm caught between Beavis and Butt-head!"

He walks closer to me and pulls me to him. "I don't want to talk about him anymore. If he gives you anymore trouble, tell me. He's not worth your effort. Do his apartment, get a kick-ass grade and never speak to him again. He has no effect on our lives."

"Do you take him seriously?"

"If he upsets you, I take that seriously. I was just making my presence known. That's what he was fishing for. Now he knows."

"What was that about my ass and…."

"I made it up." He starts to laugh. "He never said that. I'd kill him. But…," he starts laughing harder, louder too, so he holds my head to his chest and puts his hand over my ear. "Sorry." He kisses the top of my head. "I've been mean to him over the years. That oppression probably had a lot to do with the rage that's formed in his heart." He says this like he is reading me the weather report.

"Rage? As in…mad enough to kill?"

"Rage as in I'm going to keep having tantrums and plugging every female that gets within a five foot radius so I can feel like a man since my brother emasculated me every pubescent day of my life."

"So…he's going to walk in on me while I'm over there, holding a gun and ranting how his daddy didn't love him?"

Edward laughed. "More like, oh I was in the shower and forgot my towel. See my penis?"

"Been there, done that."

He squeezes me, "Not funny."

"Well…in the intake interview he said he was single. I didn't want to pry, especially in front of Jeanine, who was drooling, by the way, so good luck to me protecting her from the beast. But…no Vickie? Have you heard anything?" I look up at him.

"It's their history. On again. Off again. Vickie tends to find a safe place. Believe it or not, he's stepped in…."

"To your role?"

"In the sense of being a safe place."

"I can't imagine him being someone's safety net."

"It kind of works. He'll never commit to her, so that's its own level of safety."

"But she seemed to be moving to something more mature with Aro."

"Yeah, but whatever happened in Texas…there's something there. James was with them."

"You said that wasn't unusual."

"It wasn't. But Aro had a heart attack. I can't help but wonder if there was some stressor. If Aro wanted exclusivity with Vickie, and he did, he wanted marriage, then…the old habits needed to change. I wonder if there'd been something…I don't know. Guess we never will."

"But you're more distant with James than ever," I whispered.

"Can you blame me?"

"No, but you're a forgiver. Man of faith and all that."

"I work on forgiving him, but it's a process for me. He doesn't receive my forgiveness and I can't force that. It's not easy for either one of us, but we do it for Esme. I don't trust him. I wonder what really happened in Texas, if maybe it hasn't soured his relationship with Vickie. Not at first, at first they were thick as thieves. But they've drifted again. Maybe for good. I hope so for both of their sakes. They're a terrible combination."

I dreaded the awkwardness of having to see James the next day. Edward's phone call had made it so much worse, like I'd gone running to my husband. Score one for James and he'd see it that way, too. Edward felt like James disrespected me to get to him, but I didn't agree. James just liked to be a jerk.

Jeanine and I were meeting James at his apartment to take measurements so we could work up a presentation for him incorporating his ideas into a plan of attack. He answered the door fully clothed—jeans and a sweater, a delicate gold chain partly visible around his neck. I could feel Jeanine's intimidation, as he did exude a natural elegance. Blame Esme's influence for that. All three of her men had style.

But James ratcheted up my anxiety too, more than usual and for a completely different reason. Now that Edward had practically made his cousin a suspect in Aro's demise, I found myself unable to feign normality around him. It's like I'd guzzled a case of Red Bull.

Two carpenters in paint spattered white overhalls are mudding drywall in a hall off the main room.

"You're going to be spoiled from living with Esme," I say, full of the urge to say dumb things at a rapid pace.

"I like things like plumbing," he says. Then, "Spoke to your husband last night. I think he was high."

I look to Jeanine who is busy setting sample books on the floor. "He asked how it was going, and I mentioned your use of the 'p' word. He says you just do things to get at him, that he wasn't very nice to you growing…." Jeanine was in hearing range. "So, let's look at the layout first, then we'll get an idea of how you want each room to function."

"Wait a minute. He said what?" James takes a stand, folding his arms over his chest and moving closer, kind of peering at me, like I speak Spanish and he's going to have to translate.

"Hey Jeanine, I need a minute here. You want to take those counter measurements?"

She looks from him to me. "Su…sure." Off she goes to struggle alone with the tape.

"Look, Edward asked how it was…."

James rolled his hand, "…the part about me…."

"Using the 'p' word?"

"No, hell no. You said I do things to get to him."

"Oh, yeah. He um, knows he…like treated you poorly growing up."

"That fuck. Treated me poorly? What the hell kind of statement is that. He was an asshole. He was a dick. Your husband made my life a living hell. He ruined my life. Ruined it. Little Eddie. Fucking little Eddie. Yeah, treated me poorly." He turns away then, kicks at an empty drywall mud pale which rockets across the floor and crashes into the wall. The two carpenters stop what they're doing to watch.

"Okay in there?" one of them says, looking to me to say if it's really okay.

I nod.

James is digging in his shirt pocket and produces a pack of cigarettes and lighter, which he then fights with to get one out, light it and puff like it's his first real breath in hours. He has his back to me, and he's looking up. I stand there stupidly, because I'm not quite over the emotion that he's just displayed. So I'm calming down and waiting. Jeanine can see into the big room, but she keeps measuring even though the tape keeping snapping closed.

Finally James turns back to me, takes a few steps. "I'm doing this for Esme. I've tried to play along…for my mother." He takes another drag, and flicks ash on the raw floor. "But…she wasn't much of a mother to me. She tries now…but…." he shrugs, still not making eye contact, still puffing away.

"Maybe it's too much. We'll just go. I…we'll just go."

"No. I told Esme I'd do this."

"What about a truce? I'll do my best, you can count on it, and we'll let personal issues ride."

"That's what I was trying to do. Then my brother got involved." He drops the cigarette to the floor and stamps it out amongst the dust.

"Look…Edward knows he hurt you. He knows. That doesn't take it away. I just want you to understand…he knows."

He has his hands in his pockets, and he stares at me. "I don't care what Edward knows…or doesn't know. I don't care. I've heard the speech. He just wants me to make him feel better, and fuck that. Why should I make him feel better? We'll do this for my mother…for all intents and purposes…and then we'll call it a day, but I will never forgive that fuck for what he did to me."

"Never? That's a really big word. If you feel that strongly, I don't see this working. Edward is everything to me…."

He closes his eyes, holds up his hand to stop me. "If I have to hear that from one more person. My aunt Elizabeth. My mother. Carlisle. Vickie. My entire high school. Every philanthropical banquet from every old geezer who makes a speech. Tanya. Aro. You. If I have to hear that one more time…."

"You'll what? Have a heart attack like Aro?" I stare at him. I'm not afraid of him anymore. I don't know why, I'm just not.

He blows out a breath, walks past me and faces the million dollar view. I go to stand next to him. We stand there a minute and stare out at the boulevard, watching the traffic below. "When he tried to kill himself, that's when I was through."

I looked over my shoulder. Janine was still in the kitchen. Now she was measuring the walls. "Why?"

"Why," he laughs, but it's so angry. "He had everything. I mean everything I ever wanted, and it wasn't enough for him. It was like he was a magnet, and everything moved toward him. Including me. None of it was enough. He just crapped on it. Crapped on everyone. Crapped on me. Sports. School. Business. Women. He's never just in the room, he becomes the room, and you're in him, and you don't even want to be, but you are, you're sucked in and you find yourself mattering less and less until you're nothing."

"Okay. I get that he was difficult. He admits how mean he was to you, and that he doesn't even blame you for how you feel. But you are really seeing him in such a powerful way. You said he ruined your life. That's like…way over the top. I don't know what he can do? He can't change all of that. He's trying. And you have your own success. Look at all of this, for example. You're obviously very good at what you do. You're obviously appreciated somewhere."

He rattles his keys in his pocket and we continue to avoid looking at one another. "Don't try to validate me. This isn't what we're doing here. We're talking about him. I keep my life separate from my issues with him. I've never had a problem seeing Edward. I'll even admit he seems to have changed. Now he's got absolutely everything. He has you. Vickie is too shattered to love anyone but him. He was the son Aro never had, he's the son Carlisle never had, he's even the son Esme never had. And I'm sure the grandkids are five minutes away so we'll have new reasons to lay laurel wreaths at his feet, not that we needed those. I'm saying that when he tried to kill himself, he killed any chance of us being anything more than acquaintances who have to tolerate one another for the sake of their mother. If something ever happens to Esme, you'll never see me again unless we run into each other on the street."

"Wow. I hope for your sake you can get rid of some of that, James. I really do."

After a few more awkward moments I call Jeanine over. "We probably need to pack up and let Mr. Cullen think about the project."

"No," James said finally making eye contact. "I…want you to do this. I meant that."

We have another stare off, but for all he's said about my dear husband, it's somehow easier to make eye contact than it's ever been. "You're sure?"

He nods.

"Personal matters aside?"

"Yes." He shakes my proffered hand.

So we follow him around the huge open space. Jeanine is giddy, her voice echoing off the walls. James cringes a little because, he's James.

For the next hour and a half we go over the layout. We talk about his vision for the space. I suggest a metallic wall surrounding the fireplace. I show him a variety of pictures. My favorite is a hammered effect that is uniform and unique. It would do amazing things with light and shadow, but in a subtle way. "But overall impact will be a showstopper. Talk about an unusual focal point."

He listens, his head bent a bit. He smiles. It is the first time I actually see a sense of humor that isn't based on pure sarcasm. I've seen him play volleyball and be a part of a team, able to joke and laugh, but I've never had a conversation where he's exuded any kind of likability. I don't actually like him, I doubt I ever will, but I can see something in there, way in there.

He is a part of Esme. For a fleeting moment I get a feel for how truly hurt he's been, almost like I sense things from his point of view so deeply I feel an actual compassion for him. Then I think of Edward, and what I know is this: when Edward tried to kill himself, something truly died, something dark and unkind, something that kept him so detached from others that he had no sense of how hurtful he was.

If James couldn't find the strength to forgive, Edward would just keep hurting him in his mind. Jealousy was a cruel master. It was worse than anything we actually went through. Jealousy was a slow strangle. No matter how beautiful we made the loft, James wouldn't be able to feel it, it would never be enough, if he couldn't forgive.

That evening when Edward came home I was waiting with dinner ready. I really loved taking care of him. I only knew him as kind. Even the call to James, it would work on him, and pretty soon he'd regret it.

"Hey," he said laying his case on a chair and taking off his coat. I took the coat and hung it for him. I was OCD about this. Then I stood on my toes and kissed him. He was all handsy, and it felt so good, up and down my back. "You're wearing the apron," he whispered, breathing in deep and rubbing me all over.

I had to laugh. I'd bought a pink one, close to our honeymoon apron. I loved wearing it, feigning innocence. "You smell good," he said squeezing me.

"I made Italian beef," I sang in his ear.

"Oh, you good little girl," and he squeezed me again.

It took us ten minutes to make it into the kitchen. I fixed him a plate while he went to wash up. He came in the kitchen wearing a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. And he'd shaved. We sat at the table and he ate the beef, groaning between bites.

After dinner he cleaned up while I ran us a bath. When he came in, I was already in the water. He lit the candles and turned out the big lights, then stripped down. I loved to watch him move around in his birthday suit. What a fine suit it was. He got in the water, hissing because I liked it hot.

"Hey, remember your fantasy about giving me a bath?"

"Yeah. I've made good on it, don't you think?" He picked my foot up out of the water and pressed his thumbs underneath my toes. He gave the best foot rubs.

"You have. Not that you're nearly finished giving me all the baths I'll need over my lifetime."

Our favorite way to sit in this large tub for two was facing one another. Typically the foot he wasn't working on found its way to his privates. Likewise he loved to watch my boobs float on the water though he often had to clear the bubbles away so he could see them.

"Hey, I made a truce with your brother."

"Really? And you trust this?"

I felt for his feet and rubbed them beneath the water. "Time will tell, I guess, but…it's better."

"No doubt my phone call helped."

We stared at one another, and he laughed first. "I know. He had it coming."

"He did. But…in spite of your great movement for peace…we've pretty much agreed to focus on the project. Everyone benefits that way."

I don't know why I was so hesitant to tell him everything we'd said, well everything James had said, but I didn't feel compelled to do that right now. I didn't know if it would help things, or make it worse. I decided to let it ride for now. There was such a rift between them, so much pain, I wanted to make sure that whatever my next move would be, it wouldn't widen the chasm.

Edward pulled on my feet then, bringing us so close that I was soon connected to him by more than a marriage contract. "Oh," he said, licking me everywhere he could reach. "This was my real bath fantasy."

"I knew it," I kind of gasped, cause he was moving in such an amazing way that the water was splashing over the sides of the tub, drenching the floor, our discarded clothes, and I didn't care.


	42. Chapter 42

Catwoman 42

I ran from the space in which I'd parked my car around the corner of the warehouse that sold the architectural pieces I hoped would work in James' living room. Actually the place was supposed to be full of interesting artifacts removed from a variety of older homes and buildings that the city had been forced, or chosen to tear down. Esme had raved about this place, problem being the neighborhood it was located in. It wasn't the greatest. But that was okay, not that James had the instincts to wait in his car for me to make sure we stayed together. No, he'd already texted me twice, the first—I'm here. The second five minutes later—Still here. So yeah, I was running, in shoes with a higher heel than I normally wore. Great.

So I pushed through the smudged front door, and hefted my shoulder bag a little higher on my shoulder. It was dim in here, and piled with stuff—mantles and podiums, posts, woodwork, wainscoting. I bit my knuckle to keep myself from screaming for joy.

Then I saw James, standing in an open area facing a counter. He had come straight from work, and wore a dark gray suit. Behind the counter was a man, leaning there, blatantly checking me out. James turned and looked at me with his usual level of enthusiasm these days. I could read his mind, 'here comes the pain in my ass. Finally.'

As I was saying, "You're early," because he was, making me look late, James was saying, "You're late."

"This is Hosea. There's furniture upstairs," James said.

I waved at Hosea and he straightened and smirked. He said something in Spanish and I recognized Esme's name.

"Her daughter-in-law," James answered him in English. "Tell the old man hello," he added like they were friendly.

I raised my eyebrow at him and gestured for him to lead. I tried not to gush as I followed him through a broad isle of treasures. Everytime I stopped to gawk at something he'd say, "Focus, Bella." He had very limited time as he was working, he reminded me.

We went up the world's most rickety slanted staircase. The floor above was brittle and creaky. But I couldn't focus on that. Around me was the most fascinating array of antique furniture ever.

"This stuff looks haunted," he said, leading me at a nonchalant pace, his suit jacket flaring at his wrists as his hands were shoved in his pockets. He obviously didn't have the urge to touch everything, unlike myself, who couldn't get enough dust on her hands or her clothes, it seemed. I had just pulled the door on a massive walnut wardrobe when he called to me with something similar to enthusiasm in his voice.

He was standing before a long white buffet. "This would be great for the bathroom."

"Oh, seriously," I said, holding my hand up for a high-five. He hesitated, then smiled and smacked my hand. Then I saw it, a heavily carved side-board. It was sitting off by itself in some kind of a back room.

"Oh, oh, oh," was all I could say. He followed me back there. A giddiness had taken hold of me. This piece was massive, with side panels. I could just picture it setting along the one solid wall.

"Oh, oh, oh," he mimicked, but it wasn't mean. He was laughing. A boyishness had replaced his usual cold indifference. This was the second time I saw a hint of likeability. I couldn't get over the change in his features. He was handsome when he was human.

And that was it. The room beneath us seemed to explode. I was thrown into the side-board, and James fell into me. It seemed like forever that we sought to find secure footing. The building had shaken with such an intensity that I fell to my knees. There was the horrific sound of wood splintering and the great crunching wrecked sound of things falling and shattering. Such noise, such dust and debris and heaving. James had scrambled toward me at some point as part of the ceiling rained down on us. Pain in my leg, but he dragged me along the floor, but something sharp scraped me and I cried out. Just when it seemed to be over, it began again. Another horrific crash, everything shaking, and I waited to die. Edward. I would never see him again. For a flashing moment I was livid to think I would die in James' arms. How ironic was that? How unfair?

"You're okay," James said, his arms tightening around me. "I've got you. Don't be afraid."

"What is it? What's happening?" I asked.

Then I smelled it, smoke. And here we were, sitting atop a pile of tinder.

Sirens sounded in the distance. I tried to look around. James had grown so still. When I looked at him, his head was lolling to the side and blood poured from his temple. "James," I whispered. Then I called him more forcefully, "James."

His eyes opened. "I'm okay. Just…my head." His head fell back against the wall beneath the window. The glass was blown and we were sitting in the shards along with plaster and lathe and one of the doors that had somehow been torn off the sideboard. In the room we were in part of the ceiling had collapsed, but beyond in the large center room which we had been seconds before the blast, the roof was gone, as was the floor. Tall flames were shooting up mere yards away from the door we sat twenty feet away from.

James' arms had fallen from me. He was limp.

Sirens in the distance. "Help," I screamed. Then, "Help, help." But I felt disorganized. Part of me was screaming help, but the other part was saying do something. I needed to find my phone. I had to get James off of me and pull myself up to the window. When I tried to move, pain speared me from several places, but I didn't care. I heaved him off, trying to be careful, but even still he slumped over and his head hit the floor. I had one good leg and one good arm. I used them to get myself up to the window. With my elbow on the sill I could see a crowd gathering below. Two firetrucks were pulling in front at angles. I could hear more sirens in the distance. I yelled and got immediate attention from one of the firemen. Then I dropped back to the floor, panting, feeling a sharp stab in my side.

It was hard to breathe, but that could have been panic. When another section of the floor gave way, I felt the boards beneath me groan and shift. The big side-board swayed. If it fell, James and I would take a big hit.

Outside the window I heard a rescuer. I pulled myself back onto my good knee and looked out, pain tearing through my arm. A fireman was moving toward me as he climbed a heavy duty extension ladder that extended on a big arm from the firetruck. I was afraid of heights, but frantic to be saved.

"There's an injured man here," I yelled.

Another crash. I could feel the rolling heat, and I started to cough. I tried to move, but there was no way I could get on that ladder. That was soon solved when I was whisked over the ledge. A second man helped me down the ladder as I tried not to shout in agony. They were asking me who was inside. "James. And Hosea downstairs. I didn't see anyone else."

Medics were running towards me. I sat on the ground, people were talking to me. "James?" I asked, my throat hurting.

"They're bringing him down," a woman in a blue uniform answered. She was looking up, behind me where the building was. Two attendants had rolled a stretcher toward me.

I let go then. I was pulled into myself, but I could hear acutely. My eyes were burning. It felt better to keep them closed. "Hosea?" I asked, and someone said he was out.

They lifted me on a count of three and I was mobile then, but I didn't look. I thought of Edward, how worried he'd be. I prayed for him. Life was so fragile.

At the hospital they asked me lots of questions. I answered all I could. All I could think of was Edward. He'd be so worried. I heard his voice. They'd cut off my clothes, and they were around me, but I didn't look. I spoke when questioned. I waited for Edward. "Am I…going to die?" I asked, but they didn't answer, so I got more suspicious. "Am I going to die?" I asked more loudly. Finally a woman said, "No."

They inserted a catheter. I was protesting on the inside but I stayed quiet. They wheeled me into the hall. They were going to operate on my arm. A bone was out. Compound fracture.

I could feel people hurrying past in the hallway where they'd parked my gurney. I still hadn't looked. I heard him then, his elegant voice made sharp from fear. I knew he hurried past me. "She's there," the nurse said.

Then him, in my direction, "Where?"

He didn't recognize me. Before I could process that, he had my hand in his. Then he was petting my hair. "Oh God."

"I'm alright, Edward."

"You're talking? You looked…."

He kissed me then. I felt moisture on his face.

"I'm alright. Calm down. James." I made myself open my eyes. His face was smudged with black. "They won't tell me anything."

"He's here. So he's alive," he said. "Carlisle and Esme are on their way."

"There was a man…Hosea," I whispered. Then I moved my hand to his arm. "Edward…calm down. Faith."

"Yes." His face crumpled, then he quickly cleared his throat and quiet tears ran from his eyes.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"They're saying a natural gas leak. That place…it went up like…." He swallowed hard and leaned down to kiss my cheek.

"I'm having surgery," I said, my throat raspy.

"Why? Have they listed your injuries? Wait, I'm going to find the doctor in this damn place." He stepped away, then stepped quickly back. "I love you."

"I love you," I mouthed.

"I'll be right back. You're going to be okay, do you hear me?"

"Yes."

He squeezed my arm, and I felt pain, but I didn't care. Then he hurried away and my eyes slid closed.


	43. Chapter 43

Catwoman 43

I couldn't tell that was Bella. The woman lying on that bed had a smoke blackened face and lacerations. It didn't look like her. For her voice to come out of that beaten and bloodied…corpse…I would never get over it.

All the way to her bedside I feared the worst. They'd cut into television programs to announce the explosion. It was on the radio as I sped toward the hospital. My wife and my cousin. My burden was no where near as heavy for James, nothing could come close to the hysteria looming over the thought of losing my Bella, my heart. And I knew what it would do to Esme to lose her son, and that added one more rock to the pile.

As soon as the police called me and I hung up, Esme got through. She was frantic. The three of us were headed to the emergency room independently. "He's in the best hands possible," I assured her. "They both are." That's all I could get out.

I was the first to arrive.

James, I knew, was not conscious. His worst injuries were internal. Bella was another story. Carlisle called a colleague and then reported to me. Bella had a compound fracture of the arm, a broken tibea, broken ribs, a concussion and multiple bruises and contusions. We still didn't know about internal bleeding.

As soon as I knew she was alright I insisted on a warm rag so I could clean her face. My beautiful wife. I was so relieved that she talked and breathed, anything else, any level of injury was a far second. As long as she lived. As long as she could look at me and know I loved her, would always love her….

I wiped carefully at her skin. There was a gash on her forehead. A small cut on her cheek. Another on her neck. The nurse was hovering. They were getting ready to take her upstairs. They'd run tests and they were taking her to surgery. "I'll be right here," I told her. "It's a miracle you made it out. God is…," I said, knowing it was so, but angry it had happened in the first place.

"I know," she whispered. "I've got you."

I accompanied them upstairs, holding her hand on the elevator, and as long as I could in the hall. She looked so vulnerable on that bed. They'd better take good care of her. Where the hell was Carlisle?

I hit the cell again, pacing the length of the hallway.

"I'm here," he said. "I'll be right up."

"Who are these people? A doctor Hallerman? Who is he? I want the best, only the best," I said growing more angry by the minute.

"Edward," he said in his professionally calm voice. "Let them do their jobs."

I hurried to the waiting room at the end of the hall. There was a special news report on the television, and the burning building back-dropping the reporter. I went to the set and slammed off the power button and went to the window, gripping the marble sill and looking over the parking lot. "God," I prayed, "please."

I remembered James then. Since I'd seen Bella he'd fallen out of my mind. But I couldn't leave this floor and he was somewhere else. I'd let Esme go to him. Carlisle would look out for him to. My place was with Bella. And I'd forgotten that. I'd been all over, going back into the same terrible patterns of preoccupation I'd been in when I was single. How had I left her alone so much? What was I doing?

I paced around, slamming my fist into my hand. What if she wasn't okay? I remembered Ben. I quickly hit speed-dial. It went to voicemail. I called the Forks police station. Angela answered. "Thank God," I said.

"Edward, we just heard. How is she?"

I started to cry. I wanted to be a man about it and tuck my emotions, but I couldn't with her. "I was hoping…Ben?"

"Did you call his cell or the manse? Hang up and I'll have him call you in just a couple of minutes."

When I didn't answer, because I was holding this cyclone in my chest, she said, "Edward? Listen to me. They said in the police report it was severe. Their small section of flooring was the only remaining platform in the building that wasn't damaged. It was a miracle they lived through it. Trust God now. Whatever happens…trust him. Bella wants to live. She'll try to be strong. She'll need you to help her."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. I let out a breath then. She'd given me direction. I knew I had to be strong for Bella, but her saying it helped me. "Okay," I said.

"I'll have Ben call right away."

"Thanks."

Carlisle walked in the room. He came to me and hugged me. I gave him the one arm, but didn't release the emotion. I was just getting it to go back down.

When he pulled back his eyes were glassy. "There's no evidence of internal bleeding," he said, relief in his voice. "So far, her injuries are very treatable. You need to concentrate on how much there is to be thankful for."

I was nodding.

"How are you doing?" he asked me.

"Carlisle…don't worry about me, for god's sakes. I wasn't the one pulled out of a funeral pyre. How's James?"

"Concussed. Lacerations. Collapsed lung. Still unconscious. He's on the tenth floor. Esme is with him. She can't see Bella now so I told her to stay there. She sends her love."

I nodded. I was glad she was with him. He shouldn't be alone.

"Vickie is on her way," he added.

I didn't want her. But maybe James would. I didn't know or care. I just wanted Bella to get through her surgery. I just wanted to be able to be with her.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 43

Bella came through her surgery fine. She showed minimal signs of smoke inhalation. She had a headache from some carbon monoxide poisoning. She felt terrible. They had a cast on her arm and a bandage and brace on her knee. They'd taken glass out of many cuts on her body, and stitched her forehead and several other places. My baby.

James hadn't fared as well. His time on the floor and the fact that he was rescued minutes after she was meant he had sustained more smoke inhalation. He'd also had surgery for his collapsed lung. He had awoken, but was in a lot of pain.

I had gone upstairs to see James a couple of times. He had gripped my hand with surprising strength. I wanted him to know how much I cared. I tried to convey that by returning the grip. Now that Bella was stable, I was free to regret the state of my relationship with him. Once indifferent to putting eternity between us, I didn't feel that way now. I meant it when I told him I loved him. Granted he didn't return the sentiment, didn't know what to do with it trapped as he was in the hospital bed, but he nodded in response. I know he had refused to let me use him to make myself feel better. But none of that crap mattered now. Bella had told me how he tried to save her. For the first time in forever, I really felt like I had a brother.

Oh, my Bella. As the details of the disaster unfolded, the miracles of their speedy rescue kept surfacing. The firehouse was one block over from the antique store. Hence the efficient effort. It made all the difference. I called the station and thanked them for having the balls to yank her out of that inferno as quickly and decisively as they did. I asked them about their favorite charity. Children's hospital, burn unit. They'd be getting a hefty check.

Ben called every day. With the difficult pregnancy, they weren't free to come, although they wanted to. Ben was willing to fly there, but I didn't want him to leave Angela, not for a day.

Carlisle was our liaison between ourselves and the medical world. Esme kept vigil between James and Bella. Not only was she hit personally on both levels, but she'd grown dependent on Bella's help at work. As for me, I didn't only lean on Peter, I fell on him. Tanya called me to inform me she was coming back to work with him as long as I needed her.

Vickie showed up on day two. She stayed with James, giving Esme a break. She did what she could. I knew she had issues with hospitals, and was aware of every minute she was trapped there. She took frequent breaks. She gravitated toward me as I'd been her comfort for a number of years. But I wasn't up for it. I knew I was aloof, but I had nothing left for her. Anything I could give was for Bella.

And I got in everyone's way as I cared for my girl. The only time I left was when they made her use the bedpan, and then because she insisted. They put a cot in her room for me and I slept there, at the foot of her bed against the wall. I kept a motel room close where I did shower, and where Carlisle and Esme stayed the first few nights as well. But most of my time was here, with my wife. Where else would I be? Nothing else mattered.

I was sitting by her bed reading her an article on the top ten ways to give a guy an orgasm. Yes, there are ten. I'd snatched this rag from the waiting room just to share this revelation with her.

We were right in the middle of it when Rose and Alice walked in. Rose led. It reminded me of how beautiful my girl was. I wanted her to be up and carefree like them.

They flocked to her, patting me as I stood and moved aside. She had oxygen tubes in her nose, and fluids going into her hand, but that didn't stop her from hugging them with her one good arm. Alice was full on sobbing. "You could…you could…."

Rose was more composed, but barely. I already knew that she wasn't as stoic as she looked. When she lost it, it was worse than Alice, so I was glad she held on.

Alice wiped Bella's eyes. I was standing there with a Kleenex ready, but they didn't need me. We talked a little more about the explosion. The shopkeeper, Hosea, hadn't made it. I'd broken that news to Bella just the day before. She kept asking, and I told her the truth. They comforted her some more. I could see how good they were for her.

"I'm going to go get a cup of coffee while you Forkies catch up," I said.

Bella put out her hand for me. I went to her and squeezed her fingers, leaned in and kissed her. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you."

The girls looked at me with such sympathy. I guess I was pathetic but I didn't care. Anything to put a smile on Bella's face, anything to bring her some joy.

She came home two weeks later. She had a walker and a wheel chair. She'd broken the left arm and the right knee so it was a balancing act. And the winter weather was setting in. There would soon be ice and snow.

James wouldn't be out for a couple more weeks. When he got out, his condo wouldn't be finished and Esme wanted him to come home with her where he'd been staying anyway.

Vickie planned camp at Esme's as well. She had work in Los Angeles, but it would be over by then.

The problem was, my book was coming out in a couple of weeks. My contract included a certain amount of promotion. That put as much pressure on Peter as it did me. Tanya could cover for much of what he was involved with at the organization, but I couldn't be two places at once when it came to Bella. Esme offered for Bella to stay with her and Carlisle.

"I'm not an invalid," Bella insisted. "I can easily stay here."

But in the end she opted to stay with Esme for the two weeks I'd hit the road with Peter. The selling point was the work. Esme needed help, and Bella couldn't drive. There were also stairs to maneuver at our condo. At Esme's she could have a ground floor room, get chauffeured if she needed to go to the doctor's, etc., and assist her sort of mother in law/employer when needed. Jeanine was also bringing her classwork as she could. Some she was able to do on-line, but Jeanine lived closer to Esme.

Our last night together I was doing my favorite thing next to actually doing the deed, I was washing her. I knew she could manage by herself, but she allowed me this need to take care of her.

I'd put the plastic covering over the cast on her arm. But her brace went to her thigh, so I'd have her sit on the tiled bench that was built into the far wall of our shower. Then I'd moved her injured leg as close to the side of the shower as I could, and gently prop her foot on the low side of the tub. Following that I'd take the shower curtain and wrap it over her brace to keep it dry. Then I would turn on the water, pull the hand held shower head off of the main stationary one, and I'd be standing before her, naked, with the water source in my hand. She'd be sitting there spread open, sometimes hiding herself behind a washrag, or boldly sitting there allowing me to look my fill, depending on her mood.

I liked to drop to my knees so I was on eye level with her. She told me she knew this was better than my bath fantasy, as I ran the warm shower of water over her, following that with my hand and the French-milled soap I bought for her. "No," I'd assure her. "This is me making lemons out of lemonade. You're not hurt in my fantasy."

But it was one of the hottest damn things I could imagine. She had these smudges under her eyes because her strength wasn't back, and she looked frail as she'd lost weight, and her needing me, and me loving her to blindness, and being able to do for her, to be with her, not even counting the other externals, like her beauty, her magnetism and appeal, her skin, her breasts, her private self on display, yeah.

I felt like Lancelot, Mr. Darcy, and crazy Heathcliff rolled into one. I was good, noble, not so good, not so noble, as today, in this particular last shower before I had to leave, I sprayed the warm water over her private place, bringing the water closer, as she bowed her head, her wet washed hair spread over her narrow back as she enjoyed the sensation of the water. Then I dropped the fountain to the floor and my lips replaced its spray as I made love to her with my face. Holy, holy, holy.

I had brought her release, and the satisfaction that gave me was unparalleled as I not only got to show her how much I loved her, but it took her out of the misery of her confinement for just a moment. So the injury and nearly losing her heightened every act.

I didn't want to leave. Nothing else mattered. I knew this, but now I really knew it.

She told me to stand, and with minimal bending she put her mouth on my hard and eager member and my knees nearly buckled I felt such emotion coursing through me as the fingers of her one good hand dug into my ass, and her curvy little lips moved up and down my flesh and I climaxed so explosively I did have to slowly lower to sit just to ride it out.

I limply handed her the shower head and she took her time letting the water run over me. It warmed my shoulders and ran over my abs, pooled in my navel and ran over my hips. She paid particular attention to my limp dick.

"You're such a beautiful man," she whispered. "I know you're beating yourself up about going. But you've got a book coming out, baby!"

My hand rubbed up and down her calf. I loved the shape of it, her tiny ankle, her cute little foot. "If I could get my name off of it and stay here with you I'd do it in a heartbeat. Nothing else matters to me."

She looked at me for a moment, the water hitting the floor between us, then she slowly started to move it over me again. "Then it's good you're going."

"Why do you say that?" I pulled on the ends of her hair that hung in front of her perfect breast. She still had the cuts, but they were healing nicely. The one on her forehead was sealed. She had the most soulful eyes. So expressive and such depth. Whenever she looked at me like this, my stomach still clenched with excitement.

"Because you have to carry on. You worked hard for this. You've done all you can for me. I have to be strong. We've had time to commiserate. But we can't live like this forever."

"Why not? It's what I planned to do when we married. It's what you wanted. I'm the one that kept complicating it, adding things, crushing you…."

She sprayed the water in my face. Once I was over the shock of that, I surrendered to it. She wet my hair and handed me the spigot so she could rub shampoo in. It felt so good. 

"Stop it," she whispered, laughing.

I lifted my head. She was such a beautiful sight, the one hand still in my hair, bringing the peak of her breast higher.

"I know what you're thinking. You're going. And you're going to kick ass and sell books. Wait until they see you. They'll buy that book just to get close to you. And I'll be here, pulling for you. No regrets."

I got on my knees then, shampoo plopping onto her. She laughed as I knelt between her legs and kissed her slow and with all of my adoration. It was easy to push into her, we were perfectly aligned, and she felt so tight and hot.

"I love you, in case you didn't know," I said.

"Got it," she laughed, gripping my balls. "Got. It."


	45. Chapter 45

Catwoman 45

The first night Edward was gone I awoke in a cold sweat. Cold sweat means I was freezing, and clammy. I tried to ignore this and go back to sleep, but as soon as I pulled the covers back over me, I felt like I was suffocating. I had to sit up. I kicked my good leg out of the covers and stood up in the narrow space between the bed and the wall. My arm cast clunked against the wall. My chest felt so tight. I wanted out of this room. Maybe if I went outside into the chilly night air I would be able to breathe.

I made it to the living room, hopping on my good leg so I didn't put weight on my broken knee. I was panting. I was panicking.

"It'll be okay," I whispered. God, I wanted Edward. I needed….

Esme's grandfather clock chimed from the foyer. It was three in the morning.

For a moment, I thought about dying. I almost died. Someday I would. Someday Edward would. Anytime. Anyplace.

I hopped to the window and tried to breathe. I felt light-headed. I felt like I wasn't really here. Everything seemed hopeless. Why try? Disaster could strike anywhere. Edward was so far away. What if I never saw him again? I needed to call him, hear his voice. What if he was already dead and no one had called me, no one would let me know?

I hopped back to the sofa, but hit the end table, jarred it and the lamp fell onto the floor. It was a big sound. I waited. What would I say? What would I tell them? I'm hopping around in the dark?

There was no hope. God loved me. I knew God loved me, but this feeling….

The light came on, spilling over me, harsh and unwelcomed.

"Bella what's the matter?"

Vickie stood there, baby doll pink pajamas, mid length white terry robe over them, red hair a riot.

Sick as I felt I had to laugh. It felt weird and wrong, laughing even a bit, but I didn't care. The alternative was terrifying.

"I…sorry I woke you." Me.

She walked to the lamp and picked it up resetting it on the table and straightening the shade. "It's okay. I don't sleep much anyway. I think I was already awake."

I moved around and half-fell onto the couch. I was comforted to have someone with me, even if it was Vickie.

"I guess I don't either…sleep much." She moved past me and sat a couple of feet away. "Tomorrow James comes home." She sighed.

Even that upset me. I didn't want to see James. I knew I couldn't see him and his pain. He would be the constant reminder of how fragile…I remembered how he'd looked, his head lolling to the side, and the floor…."I hope he's really ready. I hope they're not dismissing him too early."

"You look a little pale." She startled me when she moved her hand to smooth my bangs out of my face.

Her touch made me want to cry. But I was too busy panicking. The sick feeling wouldn't leave. There was nothing good…Edward was good, but he was gone. Why did I insist he go? He knew. Nothing mattered. Oh God, nothing mattered.

"You know…James has nightmares." When I looked at her she smiled. I tried to smile back, but failed, and pretended to be engrossed in an errant thread on the arm of the couch. My lips were trembling. My hands, too.

"I haven't," I cleared my throat because my voice was faint, "had any…night…dreams."

"Really?"

Now I did look at her. Was she disappointed?

"I mean…it wouldn't be unusual. It's a way to process it…sort of." Her.

She was a hand model. I knew she meant well, and I appreciated the effort, but…no therapy, please.

Yet, I remembered something, the residue of my own screaming as I'd awakened a while ago drenched in sweat. Unsettling as it was to realize I had had a nightmare, it was a bit comforting to think there was a real explanation for how I felt now.

"I didn't know that…about James. How do you think he's really doing?" I wondered if they'd been sparing me something I needed to know so as not to upset me more. Maybe I seemed really fragile emotionally too, and didn't even realize it. I'd been doing alright when Edward was home. He always praised me, and I believed it, wanted to be good for him so he I wouldn't hold him back, but now that he was gone…oh god.

"James is one tough mother fucker. He'll figure it out eventually. But…he's pretty fucked up right now." She'd gathered my hair over the shoulder nearest her. "Let me braid this. Just stay like you are. I'll make it over this shoulder."

How was he 'fucked up'? I didn't want to hear it. Not now. I cared. But I couldn't handle his 'fucked uppness' and my own. I couldn't handle my own at all.

Her hands raked through my hair. "You've been sweating."

"Do you think it's hot in here? Too much heat?" Me.

"I think it's chilly." She continued to braid. We were silent. She'd turned toward me and scooted close, one leg on the couch with her knee bent.

I looked at her large, well-shaped foot, her meticulous pedicure. Sometimes she modeled shoes. How frivolous it all seemed. Life. She was stronger than me. Better.

"You're just what he likes," she practically whispered, tying the end off with one of the bows she pulled off her nightie.

Oh, here we go, I thought. "Well…we did get married."

"Not him," she laughed a bit, but it was just the sound of laughter. There was nothing funny. "James."

I looked at her, gently pulling the braid from her grasp. "You're kidding."

She shrugged, and picked up my shaky hand, checking over my raggedy nails. "Not kidding." She pulled a file from her robe's pocket and started in on my thumb.

"Look, Vickie…don't." I tried to pull my hand away, and she pulled back, tightening her grip and filing away.

"Relax."

I breathed out loudly and laid my head against the cushion. But I was too wired, and held my head up again.

"You haven't been up there with him. He moans your name. He asks about you all the time." She had said this in a sing song voice.

I yanked my hand away this time. "I'm going to bed. Don't make this something…it isn't."

She looked at me, then began to file her own nails. "I wouldn't do that. I don't know what it was like to be in that awful building. But I know a man obsessed when I see one. I feel like someone needs to warn you about it. He's coming here tomorrow." She motions toward the stairs where Carlisle and Esme sleep on the second floor. "It's not like they're going to tell you."

"Tell me what exactly?"

"Look, I love Carlisle and Esme to death, but they're always protecting the rainbows and unicorns. James is…obsessed with you. It doesn't matter if I'm around…or anyone. It's you he wants."

"Oh come on," I struggled to work my way out of the deep couch. "To make this into some kind of romance…."

I got on my feet, and used the arm of the couch to get past the spinning in my concussed head.

"She had my good elbow. I didn't want her to touch me. "Calm down. Always so touchy."

I spoke with a vicious emphasis on my words, "He tried to save me. Of course I'm on his mind. I was his last conscious thought…his biggest concern before he lost consciousness. He is traumatized. Don't you dare start shit…."

"I'm not starting anything. It's already started."


	46. Chapter 46

Catwoman 46

Carlisle had a ramp built at the side of the house so when they brought James in, he came through a side door into the formal dining room. He was in a wheelchair, still wearing his portable oxygen.

I have to admit, though I stood far in the back out of the way of the nurse they had hired to come home with him, as well as Esme's fussing, and Vickie's fussing, he sought me out quickly and gave me a weak smile. I waved a fast little wave.

I was glad to see him. Really glad. Tears were in there, and I was clogged, snotty right away. I cleared my throat and swiped quickly. I moved toward him and took his hand. He'd lost so much weight. His color was gray, but then he'd been in the hospital for a long time. They'd shaved his head. He looked so young that way, vulnerable. He kept pressure on my fingers and I returned it. When they pulled him away to take him to his room, I didn't want to let go just yet.

Esme patted me then, looking into my face with a sweet concern. "He'll be alright," she said, "we'll get him strong."

I nodded. That wasn't it. I knew they'd do that. This feeling was something more.

'_You're okay, I've got you. Don't be afraid.'_ I looked around, but James had been taken down the hall. Yet I'd heard him whisper that so clearly. It's what he'd said to me that day before he started to lose consciousness. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, dark shadows seemed to be framing the window before me. I held onto one of Esme's dining room chairs, and blinked. What was that?

"Bella?" Vickie stood behind me.

"Yeah?" I cleared my throat again.

"He's asking for you." She sounded defeated a bit.

I nodded. Part of me wanted to run to my room and spend the day there, part of me couldn't get to James fast enough. Either way I didn't feel so good.

He was on the patio outside of his room. This room sported its own little sitting area outside French doors. Esme's house was full of such charming touches. It was chilly, but James didn't seem to mind. He sat out there on a teakwood loveseat, oxygen tank at his feet. I sat beside him. Esme was fussing in his bathroom, talking to the nurse as they set up things brought home from the hospital. Vickie hadn't followed me, so I didn't know where she was.

He reached for my hand and I took his and we sat there looking at the nice rolling yard Esme and Carlisle took impeccable care of. "We're alive," he said.

"I know," I answered. He pulled my hand closer to his body, resting it there on his leg. "It's borrowed time from here on out," he said, a weak smile.

I nodded. I knew just what he meant. "Seize the day, redeem the time, today is the first day of the rest of your life…."

"Where there's smoke there's fire," he finished and we both laughed, but not so much.

I took my hand from his and rubbed over his bristly head. "I get what you mean."

"Poor Hosea," he whispered, searching for my hand again, so I let him find it.

"Yeah. They shipped him home to Mexico, so…no funeral."

"They told me."

That was enough then. Esme spoke from the doorway. She was going to show the nurse around and they were making lunch. He affirmed that he wanted to eat in the kitchen.

"Let me know…." I don't know what else she said, but she seemed to sense we weren't following any time soon.

We sat like that watching a few birds hop around searching the chilly landscape. I went in and got us an afghan. I threw it over our laps. He asked about where Edward was, if I heard from him, I told him what I knew. They were in Los Angeles today.

Then it drifted to silence again, and we sat in its bowl peering at the sky.

"I missed this…outdoors," Him.

I didn't answer.

"How fucked up are you?"

I blew through my lips. "Arm, leg, ribs healing, head better, breathing good. Cuts healing. Better than you." I nudged his shoulder with mine.

He tapped his head. "What about here. Like…dreams?"

I wondered if Vickie had told him. Of course, she would, so I shrugged. "Not until Edward left. I thought I was good. That…I could move on down the road. But…I mean…small price to pay for…living."

He let go of my hand stroked over my hair. "I…." He looked off across the yard, and I glanced at his profile, saw the emotion in his eyes, and stared off like him.

"I know," I whispered taking his hand again, this time with both of my own.

"No…I…_small price to pay for living_…that's good. That helps."

"I know," I whispered again, "I was channeling Edward. For a guy who tried to take his own life…he's incredibly positive." James studied me, and I had no trouble letting him.

But that was part of the problem. I couldn't let Edward know how '_fucked up'_ I was feeling. He had helped me. Until he left, I hadn't been dealing. But now there was James, and it was so comforting to have someone I could just be with…someone who knew. Someone I didn't have to be strong for, or pretend for…so I wouldn't hold him back. Wasn't that always my fear? That I'd hold Edward back, that he'd married me on a fluke, in a time of recovery, in a time like I was in now…the aftermath…the search for solid ground? I'd been that for him. No wonder he'd found me valuable. I got it now. And he'd been there for me. Until he couldn't be. But there was James, and we could help each other. I could let it out with him, and maybe by the time Edward came home I'd be better. We could help each other. Like we'd tried to the day of the accident when the whole world had blown up, when everything safe, every illusion of happiness had exploded and turned us inside out.

We sat like that, our hands entwined, until Esme called us to lunch.


	47. Chapter 47

Catwoman 47

I wasn't sleeping. But neither was James. Often we would hold court at night. We'd play Scrabble, or watch old movies on Netflix. He's never seen The Bagdad Café, I'd never watched all three Die Hards. Sometimes Vickie joined us, but she was bored. James told her, "Go out with your friends, Vick. Don't sit around like an old grandma if you don't have to." After that she did go out, nearly every night. Sometimes all night. Then she didn't come home for a couple of days. Finally, she picked up her stuff and said she had an assignment in Texas. I happened to enter the kitchen just as she was kissing James on the top of his head. He didn't say anything. He didn't turn to watch her leave.

She shot me a look as she made her way through the kitchen. "Bye," I said. She let her eyes kind of hang onto me, until she had to turn the corner and go out.

I smirked and dumped the rest of the water I'd been drinking in the sink.

I went onto the deck where he sat in his wheelchair. He wasn't wearing his oxygen. He said he didn't need it out here. He liked to be outdoors. I huffed as I sat in the chair next to him, mimicking his posture. He saw me and smiled a little, but kept looking out, pretending to ignore me.

"Those same pants again?" he said, eyebrow raised.

"What? They're clean. I've got two pair." He meant my black Yoga pants. I lived in these things. Esme tried to get me to go with her on errands for work, but I always got out of it. By wearing these type clothes she knew not to ask. The world didn't have anything I was interested in. Not enough to go out there.

I gave him five minutes to tell me about Vickie. He wasn't talking. "Rough night?" I asked.

He looked at me. His hair was growing in, bushy and cute. I called him Bush Monkey. "I guess you'd know."

"What? The Shining ended around two. That's the last I saw of you."

"Red rum," he said all creepy, and we laughed. Then he didn't laugh and we grew quiet. I had heard him yelling around four, but I didn't go hobbling in there. I had my own stuff to deal with last night. Insomnia. And voices.

"So…."

"She had a gig in Texas." He steepled his hands and resumed staring into space.

"Oh."

"Oh? Judgmental much? Like you can talk."

"Me? What does that mean?"

"Edward's got a gig. All over the globe."

"Edward is my husband."

"Point is, Babe, he's not here."

"Point is…he would be if he didn't have a book to sell. He's not some frickin' 'hand model,'" I did some really exaggerated clawing quotation marks in the air when I said

'hand model.' "With some vague, sudden, hand job. Sorry. Hand model job."

"Piece of work there, Bell. No wonder he works harder now than he did when he was single."

"Mother fucker," I said standing quickly.

"Probably. Yeah a couple of times. If you had a baby, I could fuck you. Since you can't find the balls to leave the house. Since I can't either."

I tried to keep my dignity as I stumped back into the kitchen. But I was crying these angry irregular tears, or making some kind of dinosaur noise by the time I got to my bedroom and closed the door. I didn't want to damage Esme's house, but I was looking for something to throw. I settled on falling on the bed and pulling a pillow onto my lap and punching it.

My cell phone rang then. It was on the dresser, and I got ahold of it with great effort. It was Edward. "What?"

"Bella?"

"Who else would it be?"

"Okay. How you doing?"

"I'm…."

"I just put an ocean between us. But…Bella? Are you there?"

"Of course I'm here. Where would I be?"

"I'm in England. It was hard to think of so many miles…"

"I'm sure you'll be fine. There's all kinds of people to fawn over you."

"Honey? Are you there?"

"I'm here," I shouted.

"I can barely hear you. You sound upset."

"I'm fine. Just having a crap day."

"What happened?" He's alarmed, but that's pretty annoying.

"Nothing happened, Edward, nothing beyond nearly getting blown to bits, or broiled alive, or having the floor drop from under me, or having a giant piece of fucking furniture crushing me. Should there be more? Do you need more?"

"Bella…I don't know what's happening there. Have you been having a reaction? Is Esme aware? Have you spoken to Carlisle? He can help…."

"No, Edward. That's your little method of good behavior. Mine is a little harder to fix. Don't just tell me what to do like I'm some fucking Pollyanna, like you can fix me while you're on a break between your little jet-setting life." I was crazy. And I liked it.

"No…baby, no. I didn't mean that. Look, I can barely hear you. Let me get out of here and I'll call you as soon as I get to the hotel. Is someone with you?"

"James. He said he'd fuck me if I had a baby."

"What? He said what? Bella…what should I do? What do you want me to do? I'm in England!" He shouted that last part.

"Yes, Edward. You are." I hung up.

I threw the phone on the bed and stumped my way back down the hall and across the kitchen. That ass James still sat on the deck. I wanted to throw something through the glass doors into the back of his head. Instead I went back out there.

"Hey, asshole," I stood there with my good arm/hand on my hip.

He barely moved his head, but his eyes were on me.

"I want you to go with me to Forks."

"Forks? I'm not going anywhere near that hicktown."

"You have lost your balls." I stood there, like a high noon challenge. I was bleeding a little on the inside knowing Edward was freaking out about now, trying to get me on my cell, calling Esme, calling Carlisle. It was only a matter of time before the army came over the hill.

"I'm going to Forks, and you're coming with me."

"Fuck that." Him.

"Listen…."

"You listen. How you going to get there?"

"Drive. There's a fleet out there."

"You can't drive."

"I can too. Just creatively. That's a non-issue. I'm going home."

"Why are you doing this?" He turned his chair and started to wheel around me.

I bent and put my one good hand on his chair to hold him there. I bent close to his face. "I need to go home."

"Then you go."

"You need to get out of here just as much as I do."

"I need to recuperate. I need physical therapy, as do you."

"They have a hospital in Forks. They have a physical therapy department. I don't know who I am here. I'm losing…my…self."

"…your mind," he finished for me.

"If I stay here, it's going to get ugly."

"Why should I go? I have no tie to that god-awful place."

"That's just it. You don't have any ties to anything. You're still hanging in your parent's house."

"I'm injured."

"And before the accident? Lie to yourself, but don't lie to me. I did it too…stayed with my dad long after…."

"Then why go back?" he looked a little deflated.

"I know who I am there. I have to regroup. I just…I just said terrible things to Edward. It's…it's what I was always afraid of doing, and now…I've done it. I don't like myself. This self. I need to go home."

"Then go. You don't need me."

"That's not true. It…comforts me to be with you."

"Thought I was an asshole."

"You are. No question. But I'm not giving up on you. I take you as you are."

He laughed a little. "What does that mean?"

"It means I think we can help each other. You're the only one who understands what it was like in that building. And I'm…face it, you need me."

"It's a fucked plan. If you get tired, I can't help you. My leg is shattered. I'll have to sit in back. We'll get stranded."

I laughed and got him going a bit, but he was scared. "I think we need the challenge. I can't just sit here…and remember. Oh, and you'll need a bottle to pee in because I won't be able to get you out of the backseat."

"This is insane, Swan."

"Yeah. Are you in?"


	48. Chapter 48

Catwoman 48

I pushed the big red button on the outdoor tray. "Okay, I want," I turned back to James who was sprawled in the backseat in the exact position he'd been in when I'd dumped him in there in the most brutal fashion three hours ago when we'd taken off on this crazy road trip to Forks from Esme's house. We were in her Expedition, no less. I could only imagine how crazy we'd looked getting in to this thing. And did you know that full service gas stations no longer existed? But you could actually pull up to the pump and honk and someone would come out and assist you if you were handicapped? And also you could easily talk them into going inside while the gas was pumping and buying you two sodas and a bag of chips?

Okay, so now I was ordering our food at Sonic. James had already peed in the bottle. He said he was good at it from being in the hospital. Oh, and it was time for his pain pill. "So two large cherry limes, two cheeseburger baskets…" and I gave the order.

When that was done, I sighed. My back was killing me from driving in such an awkward position. I needed to drag my right leg closer to my left. While I did that, my hip screamed with relief. This was the first slight niggling of panic. What if we couldn't do it? We had two hours to go.

"How you doing?" I asked him for the hundredth time, still kind of shocked that I'd talked him into it.

He wasn't answering anymore, but he was still smiling. He shook his head, not looking at me. Yeah, it was nuts. Big deal.

"Well…we're alive."

"That we are," he said, still no eye contact.

The kid skated out there then and we did the exchange. I handed James his food with my one good arm working double time. "Don't forget to take your pill," I reminded him.

"I don't need it," he said. And I wasn't going to argue.

"Yeah, I said squirting catsup on my fries. "We're alive. Does that ever hit you?"

He was rustling around getting his burger naked. "Um…yeah. Like," he took a big bite, "it slams me now and then."

I took a big bite of mine and relish plopped onto my chest. "Oh crap," I wiped with the napkin, kind of rubbing it in, "that's exactly it. It slams you. So like…it's all borrowed time now."

"Meaning…not ours?"

"No," I shoved in some fries, "meaning, wow I better watch this drink, I've sort of got to pee, meaning…stage two…the borrowed stage…living with an awareness that…God gave you your life."

"God."

"Yes. You can't deny God after what we've been through. We technically…shouldn't be here."

"Or you could say…where was God that we just happened to run to our near-deaths, I mean, couldn't get there fast enough, right? Why didn't he stop us? Or you at least. You didn't deserve that."

I was blinking. "You mean you did deserve that?" I readjusted the mirror so I could see him better.

He took another big bite and spoke with his mouth full, "Apparently."

"Oh, so you only get what you deserve, unless you're like me and it's a mistake? Doesn't one cancel out the other? I mean, if I didn't deserve it, and you did, and we both got it…."

"Technically, Hosea got it," he interrupted.

"That's another whole can of worms. Hosea didn't deserve death, he was an average guy, kind of good, kind of bad, he had that little daughter…so how does that support the theory that you got what you deserved? One explosion. Two non-deservings, one deserving, all in the building at the same time. No, your logic, while common, is very flawed." I was waving a french fry to make my point, and some catsup fell onto my chest very near the other stain which looked like the state of Illinois.

"I'm confused, but if you say so professor," Him.

"Hey…you're kind of mellow. What gives? You didn't even take your pain meds. I think you like riding in the car. I think you like peeing in a bottle."

He laughed a little and ate some fries.

Edward was ringing my phone to death. I answered finally. "Hey babe."

"What the fuck?"

"Wow. Hello to you too."

"Bella…Esme called me. I told her to report her car stolen."

"Why would you do that?"

"So someone can stop you before you kill yourself and your asshole of a passenger!"

"Where are you Edward?"

"You have my itinerary, if you even looked at it." He breathed deeply, and I knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bella, please pull over at the next rest stop and call me back. I don't want to…."

I dropped the phone. I hadn't been able to hang onto it because I needed to drive, and I'd had it between my cheek and shoulder which never works with cell phones, and it fell on the divider between the seats and hit the floor. I could hear Edward yelling my name.

"I'm fine, Edward. I dropped the phone. Just hang up and I'll call you at the rest stop," I yelled.

It got quiet then so I assumed he complied.

"He's pissed," James said.

"He's very forgiving," I said more to myself than to James. Then, "I really have to pee."

"I heard what he said. Esme would never call the cops."

"I know. He's just worried." I wasn't really this cavalier. I was kind of torn up that he was so upset. I wanted to explain the whole thing myself, but I couldn't blame Esme for calling him. I hadn't been answering my phone. The note I'd left her said James and I were going to Forks and we'd be fine and I'd be borrowing her car, but she shouldn't worry, I'd call when we got there and explain everything. I figured I had the whole trip to try and make this sound sane, that I couldn't stay there, I had to get out of Chicago, that I'd almost died there, and I couldn't hide there, I had to get home where I could breathe, and think about everything. And I wanted James. I couldn't fully explain it, but he comforted me, and apparently it was mutual because, and here I checked my mirror once more, and his cheeks were drawn in as he sucked on his straw finishing off his drink, apparently, he needed me.

We drove in silence then. The next rest stop was fifteen miles down the road. It took forever to reach the place. Then I had to pee for real. "Pray for me," I told James.

He was tense, sitting up straight, watching me maneuver to the ground. I hopped around back, hitting the trunk raising button as I did this. I had put my walker on top of everything. James took his cane and pushed my walker part way off the top of the pile of stuff we'd brought, including his wheelchair. I reached for the legs, and whipped that thing open. I backed away and let the trunk close, then I humped my way to the bathroom. I stopped and turned and gave him a wave before I used the handicap door. Just like I thought, he was perched up high like a bird-dog watching me like a mother letting the kiddie off to kindergarten on the first day of school.

I had to laugh a little.

I broke down in the bathroom, in the stall. I ached everywhere. I slipped when I was getting off the toilet and nearly fell. I had trouble pulling my pants up over my knee. It was seriously swollen. I had forgotten my cell phone and I knew James would be worried and cursing me.

I needed a knife so I could split my pants. They wouldn't go up. I sat back on the toilet and started to pull at the hem. Jeans have a rolled hem and it's impossible to tear. I worked at it with my keys for many more minutes, but even with holding the material in my bad hand and using my weary good hand to saw, I finally gave up.

"Is there a Bella in here?" a lady asked.

"Yes," I said, unable to go out with my pants down and all.

"James asked if you're okay."

"Oh…I'm fine. But…I need a knife or some scissors."

I heard some movement, then silence.

"Ma'am? Hello?" I guessed she went out to tell James. At least I didn't have to worry about him now.

I tried to rip the key through the hem again, but I couldn't get a good start. "Damn it," I said.

After fifteen more minutes of praying, cursing, and sawing, I got my pant-leg to split over my knee and I got my pants up with my one good arm, and without zipping or snapping them I pulled my shirt and jacket down and hopped out of the stall. Someone had moved my walked to the door. "Oh God, help me," I prayed as I hopped over there, everything throbbing, especially my head.

When I got outside I was exhausted. The car door was open on the passenger's side and James was talking to a woman. "Here she comes," the woman said. "And here's the police, thank God."


	49. Chapter 49

Catwoman 49

Jacob Black saved the day.

I felt a desperation to get home to Forks. I'd had a terrible anxiety looming. I had never felt such an unreasonable amount of fear.

Thankfully James was so miserable he didn't notice the level of my distress. He was upset with me for asking for scissors and giving him his own panic attack at the rest stop. The woman took it upon herself to call 911, even though James wanted to hold off. He didn't think it likely I was going to do the deed, but then I had been in there so long, he was worried I'd passed out or fallen. The woman hadn't understood, and when I'd been so weird, and with James obviously an invalid, she hurriedly dialed 911.

So many things happened at once. We were at the rest stop for an exhausting amount of time. Esme and Carlisle each spoke to me over the phone. They wanted me to let them come for us. I refused that. I don't know why, but they were the last people I wanted to see. I think it had to do with not feeling any control. And shame, but I didn't want to analyze it.

We were on four phones, Esme and Carlisle each on one, James and myself each on one. So a lot of conversations and cross-conversations were happening at once.

I was surprised that James didn't want to back out and call it a day. He actually defended our decision to go to Forks, cutting them off when he got tired of arguing and clicking off his phone with a resigned, "Whatever," then crossing his arms and seeming to hunker down for a nap. I got the message—I'd gotten us into this, he was in, but it was mine to get us out.

I knew what to do. I asked the police to get in touch with Jacob Black. They respected that. They trusted that. I told them my maiden name was Swan, that I was the former chief's daughter. One of them had known Charlie.

Carlisle was so unhappy. It truly upset me to go against him over and over, but I couldn't go back to Chicago. He was talking rational, and I was talking emotional sanity. There was no in-between. For me. Carlisle compromised. He wouldn't interfere with us finding a ride to Forks, but he would be following us the next day and we'd discuss things then. That was tomorrow's battle. I had no strength for it today.

The police did not ticket me, but I was given a stern warning and not allowed to drive. My doctor had not technically forbidden me to drive, but I think he didn't know he had to seeing the extent of my injuries. I'm sure Carlisle had something to do with the police not pushing it, as he spent a long time on the phone with them, but the vehicle would be left at the rest stop to be picked up by Carlisle and Esme, and James and I had to wait for Jacob to arrive. It was two more hours before that happened.

Jacob was in civilian clothes when he got out of the car. We didn't actually speak. He helped James out of the back seat. He got out the wheelchair and James was able to roll into the rest stop and use the facilities. He came out with a can of Coke.

I insisted on being able to get in Jacob's cruiser by myself. Jacob transferred all of our stuff into his car, and locked mine. Then he helped James into the backseat. He folded the wheelchair over our stuff in the trunk and slammed it shut.

Jacob looked at me as he shifted into drive. "Lookin' good, Bells," he said. He pulled out of the parking space.

"Thanks for coming."

Then after a beat I asked, "How's Leah?"

"Pregnant."

"Yeah. That's so great."

"Tell her that."

We didn't say anything for a while after that. Not until James had drifted off. Then out of the blue, "Where's the husband? Does he have any idea…where is he?"

"England."

"Don't bust her balls, man," James from the backseat.

"Oh," Jacob peered over his shoulder and then at me. "You don't know Bella as well as you think you do." He looked at me, "Her balls are unbreakable."

I smiled, like it was meant to be a compliment. My head was throbbing. I was too spent to argue. I just wanted to get to our house in Forks.

He drew in a big breath. "You still with him?"

"With Edward? Of course."

"Then what's all this," he gestured with his head toward James.

"You know James. Edward's brother," emphasis on the word 'brother.'

"He's not your brother," Jacob said, eyes stern.

"Thanks for coming to get us," I said, changing the subject.

"You don't have to keep saying that. I'm not a complete asshole," he said.

"Good to know," James said low from the backseat.

I tried not to laugh, but I did. When Jacob smiled a little, I laughed more. James tugged on a piece of my hair and I saw my reflection in the window. I was smiling. It wasn't pretty, because I looked like almighty hell, it wasn't even fully sane, but I was smiling and we were moving toward Forks.


	50. Chapter 50

Catwoman 50

It took Jacob and Jasper twenty minutes to get James out of the cruiser and inside of my house. They took him to the couch and propped his leg on pillows. I felt such a sense of relief to be back home in Forks.

"Are you okay?" Alice asked me as I looked into the fridge she had stocked upon Esme's call ahead on my and James' behalf.

I closed the frig door and turned toward her. "I will be. I needed to be here. That's all I know."

Alice nodded toward the living room where James sat.

"I…he's a friend."

She had this sympathetic look in her eyes that was making me feel uncomfortable. I didn't want to talk about things I couldn't explain. They just were.

"Bella…I'm here. If you need to talk…."

"I do…not right now. I just needed to get here, you know?"

"Esme said you left things…she implied that Edward…."

"He's not happy. I worried him. I know that."

"How do you know he won't rush back here?"

"We've talked some. I told him I needed space to work this out and if he rushes home that's him not giving me space. He…he gets me, even if he doesn't agree, so I'm hoping he won't do anything crazy. One of us…up in the air is enough." I laughed, but she didn't laugh with me, she patted my arm and moved around me to check on James.

I really wasn't ready to see Carlisle and Esme. They were there the next day. James was still asleep, as I would have been if they hadn't of shown up way before I expected them to.

"Hello," I answered the door, having hopped there because with my ribs pretty well healed, I usually hopped around the house instead of using my clunky walker. I wore Yoga shorts and an old t-shirt of Edward's. My tangled hair was stuck up in a pony tail.

Esme hugged me immediately, as did Carlisle. I looked beyond them and saw they'd already retrieved Esme's car.

I pushed the door closed with my good arm. "Sorry about…all this."

I hopped into the kitchen. They shed their coats and followed me. I shuffled around and got coffee. "You don't have to take care of us," Esme said.

"I'm sorry you had to take off. I know it's hard enough with me deserting you."

Esme waved her hand. "Least of my worries."

"Don't worry about me…so much. Or James. We'll be fine here."

"For how long?" she said.

"Why?" Carlisle finally spoke.

I stopped filling the coffee pot. "Um…it makes sense to me."

"Bella, we're not condemning you. You've been through so much. You need to talk to someone."

I finish with the coffee, setting it to brew.

"I can do that here. I don't need a professional."

Now Esme rushed to me. "I'm sorry you couldn't do that with us. We've failed you…."

"No…Esme. No. You've been great." I said this to both of them, but I could see Carlisle was struggling with a sense of failure as much as she was. Of course, this lingered from what happened with Edward. I understood. But that hadn't been their fault either.

"What then? Why did you feel you had to take such drastic action to get away from us?"

"I wasn't trying to get away from you," I said.

"No? Then why did you wait until we left for work, and then hurry off. If you really had to come back here, we could have helped you, at least, taken the time to set it up properly."

I hopped to a chair and pulled it out and sat. I was so weary. Much as I loved them…I just wanted them to go.

"Bella," Carlisle said, "what you're experiencing…it could be post traumatic stress. What you and James have been through…."

"Don't tell me what we've been through, Carlisle. Please." I surprised myself coming out so strongly. But I felt I could address my true feelings to him more easily than to Esme.

"I don't pretend to know what it was like…." Him.

"Of course you don't know what it was like. No one does but James. I…couldn't stay in Chicago. And…you are Chicago. That's all I know and I didn't know that until I just gave it words. I had to get out of there. I brought James because I had to. I need him to be okay…and I guess I want to keep knowing he is okay. I…thought I was going to be fine. When Edward left…I wanted him to go. I've been afraid of holding him back. But…I have to work through some things. I need time. Inside…I just couldn't tell you. I knew you'd mean well and try to make me stay…and I wasn't strong enough…to argue."

"You need Edward. He knows that. He feels like he's deserted you. We were on the phone with him last night for hours. If he leaves now…he wants to come home. But he feels he's put so much on Peter already, with the foundation. And he's under contract. So he's asked us to help him understand what's happening here."

"I told him that if he comes home…because of me. Because of this…he'll make another nightmare come true. As much as I want him…I don't think I could bare it if he had to run home because of me. This is all in my head. And…I'm going to get straightened out. I…I…." I started to cry with such ferocity I had to lay my head on my one good arm on the table.

"I know I left you in the lurch, Esme…but…I couldn't…and school…I…."

She was telling me to quiet. "Shh, shh," her hand on my back, Carlisle's hand on my shoulder.

That's how James found us. He'd gotten into his wheelchair. His leg was propped straight out in front as always. He hit the wall as he tried to maneuver the corner. "Whoa…," he said, his voice raspy.

He wore the same pajama type pants he wore the day before, one leg tore off above the knee for his humungo cast. He wore a Chiefs sweatshirt, ripped down the front to make itself into a sweater. I had to laugh, in spite of my emotional meltdown, or maybe because of it.

"Oh shit," he said. "I mean, that's how I feel. What are you guys doing here?"

I didn't protest when Carlisle set up all of our medical crap, and it was substantial. We both would need extensive physical therapy. Carlisle was upset, I could tell. I realized that as I tried to gain control, he was losing his over the situation, and his had actually been practical and valuable, while what I brought to the table was barely rational.

The only value to it was my sanity. And that was priceless. At least to me.

Once again, James protected me, protected our decision. And he clarified that he hadn't been taken hostage, but had come willingly. While he didn't necessarily feel the need to leave Chicago, he, "Was down with," the small predictability of Forks. And he wasn't about to let me go alone. But now that he had a chance to go back home with Carlisle and Esme, I challenged him to make a choice, and I'd live with it. He told them flat out, "I'm not going anywhere until this cast is off." And that was that.

Our time was so messed up. Edward was in London, I was in Forks. I'd barely said good-bye to Carlisle and Esme when he'd dinged my cell for the fourth time in an hour. I'd been texting him, saying I had rested and was feeling good, but he kept texting for me to pick up the phone.

"Edward," I said finally.

"Bella, are you trying to make me go insane? I'm so mad at you right now…no I'm not…yes I am. It doesn't mean I don't love you…but I'm really…frustrated."

"I know. I deserve it."

"No. I mean…I must have, must have communication. From you. My wife. My heart. I must have communication. It's all I have. It's all I have here, in Europe, across the ocean, Bella."

"I know. I know. Esme and Carlisle have been here. They left now, and Carlisle set everything up with the hospital. It was hectic."

He took a deep breath. "How are you feeling?" I so admire his self-control. I knew he was at the end of his rope.

"Edward…listen to me. I haven't been able to convey this…but I'm going to now. Are you listening?"

"Bella, I…."

"You're not listening. And I need you to really, really listen."

I waited while he breathed. "Go."

"I will be okay. I haven't been, and I made a change. It looked crazy, but it wasn't. I'm here now, and James is with me. Alice and Jasper are across the street. As soon as I'm semi-rested I'm going to call Angela and Ben. I'll see Rose and Emmett, probably tonight. Even Jacob Black has been…helpful. I had to get here…to square one. I…had to. Like you. When you needed to heal. It helped you to be here. Me, too."

For a while we say nothing. "Okay…but baby…I left you. I should have never left you. I almost lost you. I had no business leaving you…for this. I had this. It's nothing…not without you. I put an ocean between us…."

"Edward. Edward."

"You got to talk. I need to say these things."

"No. You've said them. This isn't healing talk. This is taking you down. You didn't fail me, Edward. I didn't know this was coming. Maybe you should have been able to tell the future. Maybe you should be psychic."

"I…."

"The thing is, Edward, you have not failed me. You helped me. And now I'm helping myself while you get out there and set the world on fire. I need to see you going on. I don't want you staring at me, taking my temperature, seeing if I'm better. I want you to be normal. When you're normal…I feel hope. So stop stressing over me. I'm fine. You can't stop this. You may have prolonged it because you have always made me feel so safe, even in your plane. But you can't take this for me. I have to do this. I've got James, and he's who I need for right now, and I want to tell you what I understand about that. Don't be jealous of him. He's not taking your place. He couldn't. He knows that. But what happened to me happened with him. And for some crazy reason, I need to be able to make sure he's okay. I need to protect him. And he seems to need the same thing back. I can't explain it any better than that, but I feel like I can be totally crazy around him and he's not going to freak or even make me talk. After what we went through, we have no standards for normality. That's all I know. He's a way to not be alone. He's a way to feel some control. He's comfort. I'm using him, I admit, but I know he needs me to. He still needs to feel like he's protecting me. It's not sexual, you need to know that. It's just this tangle, and part of getting through this will be untangling this…slowly. That's all I know."

We were silent for a long time.

"I think you need help sorting all of this out."

"I know. I'll start with Ben. He'll know…."

"Okay. Bella…when that happened to you…it happened to me."

More silence.

"I was hoping…I guess I was hoping that if you got away…."

"No, Bella. It doesn't work like that. I know I wasn't in that building…."

"I am so grateful you weren't there."

"But we're one. So…it matters. It hurts. It's hard to be away."

"It must be. I'm not trying to punish you."

"I know that. But it's important we understand each other. I'm not trying to make this about me, but with my problems I've learned to speak up and make sure I'm conveying how I feel."

"I'm glad for what you said."

"I'll think about everything you said. But just know…I want to be with you. It hurts…my wife…." I could hear him swallow, but not much else. I knew how badly he was hurting now. I felt it.

"Edward…here's what never changes…my love for you. This other stuff…it sucks. It's really hard…life. But there's so much good. My life with you? That's what I want. I don't want to be like I am now…and I know I won't stay here. But I've got to get through this."

"Bella…how ever hard it is right now…you're alive, baby." Yeah. James and I kept saying that to one another. We knew we were alive. We were shocked that we so abruptly almost hadn't been.

So Edward and I didn't speak for a long time. We were both allowing ourselves to cry, I guess. I didn't have much of a choice.

Finally I could get some words out, "Hey, I haven't even asked how it's going."

He swallowed. "It's busy. We sign, we talk on the radio. We've lectured. I always love the British. They're so different from American students…I'll tell you when I get home."

He finished with, "Six more days. I can't wait."

"Yeah," I said, "Six more days."

We spoke more words of love, but it was too difficult to contain our emotion so far apart.

Yet, when I hung up, I knew I couldn't feel the joy I should. I wanted him. But I didn't feel strong enough to handle the assurance he would need that I was going to get well. I didn't know how long it would take. I just knew that today, right now, I wanted to bake.

And while I baked, I thought about all the steps Edward would have to take to get home, each little thing, and it seemed daunting. Just the act of getting here. Exhausting. And so unpredictable. What if he didn't make it? What if something happened to him? How would I live? I couldn't think this way. So how did I turn it off? How did I stop?

"Hey," James said, waking up from a nap in his chair near the window. He rubbed over his face, then his bushy hair.

"Hey." I was so glad not to be alone.

"Smells good," he said.

"Is good," I said.

"Well. We're alive," he said.

"Yes," I hedged. "Today is the first…whatever." I laughed, but he didn't.

"Heck of a dream," he said, rubbing his face again, and turning his chair toward the window. "Heck of a dream."


	51. Chapter 51

Catwoman 51

"Goin' to the store. You want anything?" I said clipping my ponytail high on my head with just one hand.

"How are you going to the store?" James drawled, hypnotized by endless hours of video-game playing.

"I told you…Alice is taking me. So what should I get you specifically?" I was trying to find my cell phone and my keys. I had never been so unorganized as I'd been since we'd gotten here three days before. I could have sworn I'd put my keys in the bowl by the door, but they weren't there. It's like a stranger was living in my body.

"Can…Al…jis' go?" James asked, too lazy to even fully pronounce his words.

I didn't answer. I finally found my house keys in my bedroom on the floor.

Alice honked out front. I grabbed my walker and started the journey to her car.

Town looked different. Its sameness had been rearranged in my absence. The party store was now an antique shop. The masseuse parlor was a printing shop. Alice's shop was bright and welcoming. It had been a cell phone store. The photographer's studio was a tobacco shop.

The grocery was no longer Gray Wolf. It was now the Red Dog. When Harry's son took over, he changed the name, Alice said.

"Oh." I hopped out, got my walker out of the back and slammed the door. Alice waited patiently. She wasn't allowed to help me, but I could feel her tension as she hovered.

I left my walker at the door and grabbed the single wheelchair Harry, and now his son kept by the door. Mostly it was used by the stock boy to cart heavy cases of goods to the shelves. But I was glad to see it, for all its wear. I dropped into it and moved the footrests into place.

Then I wheeled past the check out counter, following Alice. I soon had my lap filled with canned goods. I wanted everything, and that made no sense. I normally wasn't big on canned food. But James loved tomato soup. And corned beef hash. Bachelor stuff. I thought he'd be more high-end, but his dietary habits were appalling.

"Bella? Is that you?"

I tilted my head back and looked up past the pregnant belly that was very close. "Hi Leah. Yeah…I'm in here," I laughed. Sheesh. Had I changed so much?"

"I guess I should say glad you're alive."

I looked around. Alice had turned the corner into the next isle. "Yeah. Um…thanks for Jacob…coming the other day."

She kept staring. I felt my self shrinking. I didn't want to, but I seemed to have no strength against her furrowed brow and stacked lips.

"Congratulations…on the baby. And…thanks for lending Jacob to us…."

I used my one good hand to roll away.

"Do you need help?" she called.

I shook my head and kept going.

Alice was perusing the cereal.

"There you are," I said a little rebuking.

"Did you need me?" she was a stern as I'd given her my independence speech and she was living up to it.

"No…."

"What's the matter?"

"I…I feel…can you just take this? I think I'll wait in the car."

"Why? Do you need me to take you back home? Are you sick?"

I shook my head. I wasn't sick, just…I needed to get out of there.

It was all I could do to patiently roll up to the cart and put the things from my lap into it. I wanted to throw things. I wanted to roll outside and keep rolling until I was home. Maybe if I could do that, I could feel normal. When I got to the door and it was time to transition back to my walker, I put too much weight on one of the arms and nearly unbalanced the chair. The security guard grabbed hold of me. I hadn't even seen him and was so surprised to feel his hand on my good arm I jerked away.

"Sorry," he said. "You okay there?"

"Yes," I glared at him as I straightened out my walker. Why did they need a security guard? They never used to have one. This was Forks, not Chicago!

Everything was going to hell, I thought as I stumped my way outside and back to Alice's car. When I reached it and tried the door, it was locked. "Great," I spat.

"It's okay," she said from behind me. She beeped the locks and I opened the back door. I took a hop back from the walker and started to fold the sides in so I could put it in the car. I fumbled angrily with it, and Alice had her hand on my shoulder. "Get in the front seat before I throw you down and pummel you before God and old ladies," she said.

I gave up then, and left the walker to her while I tripped my way into the front seat.

"Now," she said, once she'd loaded my equipment. She had one arm propped on the roof, and one on top of the open car door, "…you want to tell me what else you need before I go back in there? Or do I need to take you home first? And don't lie to me."

I scratched my head. I couldn't look at her. "I'll be okay. Just go get the groceries. I…don't know what else I needed. Feel free to use your imagination. And…thanks."

"No problem," she pushed my door closed.

I didn't know what happened in there, I just knew I needed to get out. Wow, if Forks wasn't safe…then what was? While I thought about this, I screamed when someone knocked on my window. Jacob Black.

I tried to roll down the window, but of course I didn't have the keys. So he opened the door and stood in it like Alice had.

"How you doing?"

"Okay." That was the extent of my social skills.

"How's the other one?"

"James? Fine."

"We're going to get some snow. You better stock up for a couple of days."

"Yeah." That was the point. "Thanks again for the other day…the lift."

"Yeah. Well…ever wonder…ever wonder how it could be about now? I mean...it's obvious you're having problems, but that guy isn't your answer. Why do you have to turn to everyone but the guy who's always been right in front of your face? You got in trouble for a reason, Bella. This loser you brought home…he's not your answer. Think about it. Who's always there? Who's the solid, every time, Bella?"

My stomach rolled over. "What?"

"How long are you going to play dumb? It just keeps getting more complicated because you won't give in."

"I just saw Leah. Your complicated pregnant wife."

He stepped back and glared at me for a minute. "Yeah. Take it easy, Bella. Next time you get in over your head…call me."

I took the door with my one good arm and helped him slam it shut.

By the time I aided Alice with unloading the groceries, I was worn out. "Alice," I said…and before I could speak, she grabbed me in a hug.

"Shut up," she said.

She held me in her ferocious little grip, and it felt like the arms of Jesus it was so comforting. We stayed that way for a few minutes. I cried. She cried because she was a sympathetic crier. "I'm scared," I said finally.

"I know," she said, her hands rubbing over my back.

"I…Edward," I said, but it made no sense. Just to me.

"He loves you, Bella."

"I know," I pulled back, and she handed me a paper towel. I noticed that James' video game had grown silent.

"You'll get through this," she said confidently, her eyes on me like high-beams.

"Poor Edward. He got ripped off."

"Shut. It. I know you want to divert yourself with this crap, but it's not the issue and you know it. Edward isn't going anywhere, and he worships the ground…."

"But that's just it…it's pressure. He needs normal. He thought he was getting salt of the earth, at least. Poor Edward."

"Stop. Stop. Cry about the accident, cry about the fire, cry about your damn leg aching, cry about school, cry about the guy that died, but don't you dare cry about Edward. You and Edward are meant to be. You're good together. Don't you dare let this thing poison that well."

I breathed in. "I'm such a liar. Here I came home and crashed onto you…then I had the audacity to tell you I could do…I can't do shit. I couldn't even get us here without a 911 call and Jacob Black…who hit on me in the parking lot, by the way."

"No," she said like I'd just told her the celebrity gossip of the year. "Poor Leah. That bastard."

"Ah…poor Leah can't get enough it seems."

"True."

"Poor baby, though."

"True again."

James was making a racket. Alice went to investigate. She helped him get into his chair while I put away the groceries. We had an in home nurse coming the next day to help James with personal tasks. Ben had told us about a man in his church who was out of work. We were hiring him to drive us to our appointments.

"It really takes a village," I told Alice before she went home to unpack her own groceries.

We hugged again, and I felt so much better. I really missed Edward, the comfort of his closeness. As soon as Alice was gone I called him. He was on his way back to the states. In three days he'd be home. He was going to our home in Chicago, then driving here.

That evening James and I ate nasty tomato soup and played Scrabble.

"That's not a word," he told me tiredly.

"It was a type of suit in the twenties."

"You can't just say zoot. It's like saying, there's a Nehru. It's Nehru jacket. You don't just say Nehru."

"Okay, that argument is flawed." I took my hand and messed up the tiles.

"What did you do that for?"

"You're not into it."

"Blame me, when you're the ass."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

I kicked at the table and jarred the game even more. "You're such a dick."

"You're a bitch."

"I wish I hadn't dragged you here. You don't make any effort to get better."

"What am I supposed to do? I have six pins in my leg!"

"And that's all I hear. God, I'm so sick of it. I'm sick of you!"

"It's mutual, babe." He used his hands like a monkey to scoot further back on the couch and pick up his game control.

"Oh, don't you dare turn that obnoxious thing on again. If I have to hear that game for one more minute!"

"Kiss my ass." He started the game, without looking at me.

"You know what Edward would do if he heard you speak like that to me?"

He laughed. "I know exactly what he'd do. Remember, I've seen all the stages. You think he's so…." He spiraled his hand in the air. "You are so deluded."

"Don't you speak poorly about him. Don't you dare. I'll kick you out of the house. I'll put your ass right out in the street."

He laughed now. "You and what army?"

I shook my head and sneered, "You think I won't do it? I'll do it, sucker."

He really laughed now. "You're nuts. I love the way you keep telling everyone all these heartfelt reasons for why you do what you do…but you're just balls out nuts."

"If that's what you believe, then you're just as nuts. You got in the car with me. What does that say about you, Einstein?"

"Someone had to keep an eye on the wacko," he muttered.

"Oh, how noble and selfless. You've never done anything for anyone without thinking of a dozen ways to exploit them. I'll bet you've never done one charitable act in your whole life!"

Now he was mad. "You don't know shit about me."

"I've seen you in action, whore-boy. Do you have any personal boundaries?"

"I shit in the pot every morning. You should be grateful."

"Oh that's just lovely. You ever do your business anywhere else, you better sleep with one eye open."

"You're psychotic." He looked worried.

"You're just unlikeable. I keep waiting for some redeeming quality to show up, thinking I've somehow missed it, that it has to be lingering in there somewhere, but nope. You're an asshole." I clapped my hands.

"Are you through?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Pick up that Scrabble board and those tiles. That's all I need is to step on one of them and slip. I'll have another broken leg."

I took the red bag that held the rest of the tiles and dumped them everywhere he might step.

"Okay Kathy Bates. I'm calling someone to come and get me."

"Good. Call Vickie. You might catch her before she goes to the club."

He was digging in the couch cushions for his phone.

"I wish I would have let that…."

"Do. Not. Say. It."

He sat back, his teeth gritted, his eyes unblinking and fixed on me.

I could feel the hot tears springing down my cheeks, but I was surprised to see his.

"I don't care about anything," he said.

"I…couldn't stay in the store. It's a little po-dunk store, but…I couldn't handle it."

"I'm afraid to sleep. I can't face that bed. It feels like a tomb back there. I can't breathe. Even thinking about it."

"Then don't go back there. Sleep here."

"You said I couldn't spend another night out here."

"Ignore me."

"It's not possible."

"Sorry."

We were quiet again for a long time.

"I don't know why I lived. That poor guy, Hosea, he had a kid. Why did he die and I lived? I'm not even…."

"I'm afraid to live," I said.

"I'm afraid to die," he said.

"Stop it. Don't say anymore." I felt like we were spinning around the same drain.

"We're supposed to talk. So I'm talking."

"Not now."

"Shit."

"I'll call Ben. We need someone…hopeful."

"I don't want to talk to him. He's goofy."

"What? He's a man of the cloth."

"He's a poof." Him.

"A what? He's a good guy."

He sighed. "Not tonight. I don't want to talk anymore."

I swallowed. "Will you talk to Edward? You know he's coming home."

"How could I not know that? It's your Christmas."

"Well…I know you're not close, but he's your brother and he loves you."

"I don't know what that means. I know I'm supposed to love people…but I don't even like them. I don't like anyone."

"Do you like me?"

"I don't know. I can tolerate you since the fire. I don't know why. You are crazy. I meant that."

"Well that makes me feel terrible."

He shook his head. "I just take pain meds. As soon as I can, I'll drink. I know that's what I'll do. I should have died. I'm alive. We keep saying that, but…why was I spared?"

"A lot of it doesn't make sense. But…do you believe in God?"

He looked cornered. "Don't go all religious."

"You haven't thought about it? After all you've been through?"

"I don't know. Yes. I thought about it. I'm not Edward. That's what he did, he got all religious. That's not me."

"Yeah, but…putting Edward aside, what about you? Are you going to avoid God because of Edward? Is Edward really that powerful? He can keep you from God now?"

"You're twisting it. I think there's something. That's all I'm going to say. I'm not an emotional guy." He wiped some tears off of his cheeks.

"I'm…sorry I said all that stuff. I…."

"Swan…leave it."

"Really, you're glad I made it right? I mean…you worked so hard to save me."

He kept staring at the floor. The controller had gone slack in his hand. "Really…in that moment…I didn't care about myself. All I cared about was you."

"You're like a hero. My hero."

He looked at me now and laughed a little. "Did it all go away? You said…that stuff. You don't like me."

"Well…it didn't go away. At least I didn't say I wished you'd died."

"I didn't say that. God, I didn't mean that and you know it."

Now I laughed a little. "You fight dirty."

"Back at ya."

"Okay…the hero thing, no it didn't go away. Actually, when it happened, I was so overwhelmed. But you seemed to act. You jarred me out of it. When you lost consciousness, I kept fighting. I got to the window. But if you wouldn't have been there…I don't think I would have been able to come out of it…the shock. Here's the thing too, I knew right away I needed to fight, but I just…couldn't. Not until you dragged me. I'm so surprised by that…my reaction. It's like I decided not to fight. I don't know why I gave up before I even tried. You were the strong one. And that's God. He gave me you."

"Oh shit," he said, and fresh tears washed his cheeks. He didn't lose it completely, but he wasn't able to keep it all bottled. "Then what about Hosea? Here we are again. Where was his help?"

"I don't know. I don't understand so much. But I know who my help was."

"If you hadn't gotten to the window…." Him.

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't pushed me into action."

He nodded. "So does that mean you like me now?" he grinned.

I laughed. "Not really. But…I kind of love you. I mean…you're kind of beautiful, you know. When forced."

"I guess you're alright too, Swan." He clicked on his controller again, and the obnoxious sounds of his game filled the room once more as I cleaned up the Scrabble tiles.


	52. Chapter 52

Catwoman 52

Edward entered the house a couple of hours before I was expecting him. When I heard the front door open, I was in the kitchen putting the top on a chicken pie. My hands were shaking. Just knowing he was there was making me a wreck. That's why I'd cooked so much food. I had to keep busy or I'd lose my mind with anticipation.

James and he exchanged greetings. James had pretty much taken over the living room and though he'd offered to move to the back of the house, I told him to stay put. I knew he couldn't sleep anywhere else, and with Edward home I wouldn't be running in there every time he had a bad dream, so the least I could do was allow him a comforting environment.

I went to the doorway and he stood in front of James looking at the places where the pins were located. They were well-bandaged, but visible now that he'd moved from cast to brace.

Edward's presence slammed into me. It was like we'd been apart for years. He stood straight, and put his hands in his pockets. If I could have run to him I would have, but since I couldn't, and since he didn't run to me, or walk quickly at least, I backed into the kitchen and opened the oven door using the fingers on my now cast-free arm and my good hand to heft the pie in the oven. He had entered.

"Bella," he said.

"Edward," I answered formally.

He took a couple of steps toward me, put his hand around the back of my neck and kissed my forehead.

"Thanks, Dad," I said, then he wrapped his arms around me and gave me one of his smashing hugs.

My hands came up and attached to his back. He felt so good he devastated my senses. We held each other like that for a full minute. He swayed us a little. He smelled so good. I had missed him so much. Here came the tears, but I didn't care.

He stroked over the back of my hair then ran his hand up and down my side, to hip and back up. "Oh, my curves," he whispered.

"I…." I had nothing.

"Bella, I will never go away that long and that far again. I hated it."

I couldn't really speak at the moment. I knew his shirt was growing wet.

"Are you crying?"

I nodded.

"Don't cry. I'm here now. I'm here."

I pulled back to look at him. "I'm sorry about everything."

"Nothing to be sorry for."

"Don't say, 'you're alive.'" He handed me a paper towel and I wiped my face, but he kept his arms around me. "We have to have higher standards than me breathing, you know?"

He laughed. "I see the cast is off…James and yours."

"Yeah. Progress, yay." I laughed, but not really. I was wiping my streaming face. The level of relief I felt standing so close to him was ridiculous.

"The place looks good."

"It's a mess," I laughed.

"Smells good."

"Yeah, I've been cooking. Are you hungry?"

"Hmmmm." He kissed me slowly. Oh, this is what I longed for. I kind of fell against him, my arms reaching around his neck, my wrists locking behind his head.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"Me, too."

His warm lips moved up my cheek to my ear. He pressed them beneath the lobe and I almost fell over.

"You'd better stop, our new son…is in the next room," I said low, knowing we needed to stop.

"Oh no. Not my son. I'm not cramping my style for him. It's bad enough he's on my couch."

"You got my text, right? I tried to prepare you."

"It didn't quite prepare me. Is that how he spends his days?"

"Pretty much. He has therapy starting Monday, but so do I."

"Esme said he hasn't been working. There's a lot he could do from here, but he's let his cases pretty much go. He's on sick leave, but he's still supposed to consult."

"He's a bit…down." I couldn't believe how protective I was feeling. This was Edward for heaven's sake. He had a right to his opinion on the matter.

"Yeah, this is how it gets…at first everyone is just glad you made it, then the disgust sets in. I don't want to be the prick, but he needs to make an effort. That bathrobe looks like it's attached itself to his body. He's never going to feel better wearing that thing."

"Keep your voice down."

"With that video game at top volume I doubt he can hear me, plus I think he's in a self-induced coma. He barely pronounces his words. How much pain medication is he taking? He's always been one to abuse prescriptions."

"Edward you've been home for fifteen minutes and you're already sounding like Judge Judy. I thought you were okay with him being here."

"I haven't had much choice in the matter, now have I? I was glad you weren't alone on the trip…but that's another story isn't it?"

He dropped his hands from me and took a step back. "I don't want to argue. What time will supper be ready?" I could see the anger in his eyes.

"Half an hour," I said.

"I'm going to take a shower." He stepped near me and kissed my cheek.

"Edward…you're not like…jealous of him I hope."

"Am I jealous he got to practically die with you? Am I jealous he helped you in the fire instead of letting you die? Am I jealous that he sticks to you like glue? Am I jealous that he's taking up the entire core of my house?"

"It's just…you're so angry."

"Yes. I've been angry. It's not your responsibility and I'll get over it. I just…need to shower. Seeing him…high…I just…I'm tired."

I nodded, and he left the room.

Things were tense when he got out of the shower and I had dinner on the table. I had talked James into rolling into the table. Being able to bend his knee had opened up many more opportunities for him. Not that he seemed to care very much.

I brought us each a glass of water, then sat. James started to serve himself immediately, before Edward had sat down. I was irked that James had cut into the pie. I wanted Edward to see it before it was ruined. Also Edward liked to take the time to bow his head before he ate. It's something he did. Then there's the Emily Post thing, the manners thing.

Edward sat and scooted to the table. He unfolded his napkin and shook it out, then laid it on his lap, all the while his eyes on James who was shoveling his hot food.

"Fuck," James said when he realized how hot the pie was.

"A dollar in the jar, my friend," Edward said.

"Okay, Esme," James said, taking a long drink of water.

"Yeah it obviously didn't work," Edward said. Then he bowed his head.

I looked at James as I bowed mine. James looked from me to Edward. He held his fork and waited. Edward lifted his head and took the spoon from the pie. He held his hand out for my plate. Edward always served me first.

"That's enough," I told him, taking my filled plate back. "Thank you."

Then he served himself.

"So, James, you're looking much better," Edward said.

James shrugged and kept on eating.

Edward smiled at me, and I shrugged too.

"So," Edward again, "how long are you off?"

James scratched at his chin with the handle of his fork. He shrugged again.

I cleared my throat. "Okay, tell me everything about your trip."

Edward pointed to his mouth. "Chewing."

I took another bite.

Edward swallowed. "This is a good meal. The best I've had."

"Liar," I said.

"The best, really. I missed your cooking."

I smirked at him. "You're so full of it."

James laughed too loudly.

"It wasn't that funny," I told James. He'd better not think he was going to be rude to Edward in his own home.

"You said it," James muttered.

"I can fly you back to Chicago. You could do your therapy there. Carlisle swears that Dr. Thomas is way more experienced than our therapist here. And that's where your life is anyway, right?" Edward's eyes looked a little…crazy as they lit on his brother.

"Edward…." I said.

"No…it's cool," James said. "Why don't you just say it, man. You've got a problem with me being here because you've got a problem with me. You've always had a problem with me." He went on eating.

Edward laid down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "My problem with you…the one I've always had…I pretty much laid to rest in the hospital. Saving my wife's life kind of woke me up. I don't blame you for how bad things got with us. I blame myself for most of it. So take that out of this. This is about," he gestured toward the living room. "What are you doing?"

James complexion was getting rosier by the second. "Should I have let her come by herself? She needed to go. I saw that. I was there to see it!" I'd never seen James this riled, and it came on like lightening.

"Okay…." I said.

"No…let him talk," Edward.

"Let me talk? What are you, the great Oz?" James.

"Yeah. And this is my kingdom. And your ass is planted right in the middle of it. Don't you have a new shiny loft waiting in Chicago, with your job, and your life?" Edward.

"I'm here because you weren't," James.

"I'm here now. I'm home. And before this gets any weirder, you need to let me fly you back to Chicago because I know what you're doing. I did it too. Only it didn't include someone else's wife."

"Okay," I yelled, as James yelled, "Fuck you!"

"You need to get off your ass and get yourself some therapy and get back in the game," Edward said, as obnoxiously as I hoped he never would.

"Getting mad isn't the way to…." Me.

"Maybe it is. Maybe someone needs to get mad," he insisted. "I'm not going to have my own brother sitting in my living room popping pills and hiding out and tiptoe around it like it's really great. I'm not going to do it." Edward folded his arms.

"You shouldn't say those things," I said. "He didn't choose this…."

"I know," Edward interrupted, "he chose you."

"Not like you're insinuating. He went through something to get here. It was my hare-brained idea."

"I'm not putting down your need to come here, Bella. You need to be here. He came to 'help' you. Now I'm here and he can go home."

I pushed back from the table.

James stared at me. "Say something. You were going to put me out in the street the other night. Don't go all shy on me now."

"That was bull and you know it. I…I don't want you to go. But…I know you'll be okay. I know you're a little lost right now…and…you're sad. And…I don't know how to help you. And I don't know what happened when we went through that together but…something did, but we've talked about that, it's old news…and I want to fix you…but I don't know how. Because…I'm so broken myself…." I looked at him, at them both, and they were both looking pissed, but also hanging on every word I said, and there was no question where my loyalties ultimately lay even though Edward was being a self-righteous bastard, even still, I kind of needed his sternness, and I kind of loved him for his willingness to be the bad guy. "I think Edward is right…not about everything…but you won't get better here. I thank you for coming. I know you haven't been comfortable. But if you wouldn't have come, I couldn't have…so you saved me twice. And you shouldn't be yelled at for it." I glared at Edward on this part, and he was going to defend himself, but I raised my hand and he stopped. "But even still…it's best for you to go home. We both know it."

"If that's how you felt, why didn't you just say it? I could have left with Carlisle."

I shook my head. "I didn't want you to go. I told you, I'm worried about you going now. I don't think you should be alone, and I'll be checking on that. I definitely think you need to go home to Esme's at least until you're out of that chair, but you need to talk to somebody. I wish I knew what to say to help but I can barely help myself. You need more than a friend. There's people schooled in this stuff. I guess I thought if you stayed with me I could keep on top of it and nothing would happen to you. I thought maybe what I needed…you needed…but it was really all about me."

"I'm not Edward."

Edward groaned. And I shook my head. "Let's not wound each other anymore. Isn't life hard enough without us wounding each other? I never thought you'd do something to yourself because Edward did." That was kind of a lie. The worry was in there. "I worry about your mental health because you've been traumatized and maybe it will get to be too much and you won't be thinking right. You're already abusing your meds. You scare me. I'm not sure…the way your life is set up…support systems…."

He sighed deeply. "We'll go back in the morning," he said.

"You've helped me," I said. "But we're both messed up, and we have to get help."

He didn't say anything, but pushed back from the table.

"James…I'm in your debt, man, I know that." Edward.

"I haven't done anything for you, Edward. You don't owe me anything."

James spent the evening packing. I asked him a couple of times if we were good, and he said, "yeah," without looking at me, even when I rubbed his bushy head. Most of the rest of the evening he spent on the phone.

That night in bed with Edward, I couldn't turn off my brain. As much as I longed to be with him, and knew he had another quest before it would happen—he was flying James home in the morning as soon as his flight plan was cleared—it seemed like neither one of us could seal the deal, so he held me close, and that was its own kind of relief. But I was hurting for James being alone. "He doesn't have anyone," I told Edward.

"He has Esme and Carlisle and a great team of therapists. He has work and he has friends though you choose to treat him like he's little Charles Dickens you just rescued from the orphanage."

I slapped Edward's chest and lifted my head. "Stop. You've been so mean to him."

"It's how him and I show our love."

"Don't try to joke your way out of this. I hate how you're being."

"Look, we'll be back in Chicago in a few weeks, and I'll be careful to reach out to him then. But for now, he needs help. Adding a drug addiction to the rest of his problems is not 'us being supportive.'"

"He's not addicted." I thought of James' remark about taking pills and how he would drink his way through this. I wanted to tell Edward, but I didn't trust him with more evidence. He already seemed convicted that James was addict material.

I smoothed over Edward's chest and stomach with my hand. "Much as I want to throttle you now, you feel like heaven to me."

"Mmmm," he replied. "Keep it up."

"He has no one," I repeated, suddenly choking.

"You are pitying him, and that is why you need to send him away. Pity cripples people. He doesn't need your pity, he's playing on it. He needs your love. Love will send his ass home and require him to do something to get well."

I cried in earnest now. "Oh God, you're right. I'm hurting him."

Edward sighed in exasperation and tightened his embrace. "Shhush. I don't want to hear another word about him. Look…now he's in our bed with us. Why don't you just go get him?"

I broke out laughing. "You're disgusting."

He laughed too. "Oh crap. What a day."

Edward reached to our nighstand and snagged me a couple of Kleenex. "Wipe him off," he told me, like James was clinging to my cheek.

"You're good with weird," I said.

"Takes one to know one."

"I admit, I was running from you too."

"Like I didn't feel that."

"You did? How did you know?"

"I just did. Lover's intuition."

"I thought I was too weird."

"You are. But I run toward your weirdness, for some reason. It doesn't repel me like it should."

"I guess you really love me."

With that, he rolled me on top of him. "Hey, no cast," he said. "Much better."

"Yeah."

He rubbed his hand up and down my back. "Go to sleep," he said.

His heart was beating against my chest. His arms felt strong around me. He was hard and aroused, but we needed a different singular connection right now. We needed to just be together. So I drifted.


	53. Chapter 53

Catwoman 53

Of course, sleeping on top of Edward was temporary. We had not been together in close to three weeks, and with him leaving in the morning…well enough already. I had drifted off, but his hands moving over my body with such deliberate care aroused me in my sleep and soon brought me out of my stupor. As soon as I moved he groaned and we kissed. When we kissed we fell into another state of being. It had always been that way. I don't know why it brought tears to my eyes, perhaps because it felt so incredibly good.

He slowly moved us so we were side by side, facing one another, and the kissing continued as he moved over me, pressing me into the bed. "I missed you," he breathed, "missed these," he said squeezing my breasts. "I could see your nipples through your shirt. It was all I could do not to take you in the kitchen. Do you know what you do to me? What it did to me knowing he saw them too?"

Speak of the devil, James cried out then. Edward's head snapped up, but I knew what it was. "He's dreaming," I said.

James yelled again. Edward looked toward our door, then at me.

"It's every night," I said.

Smaller sounds reached us.

"Should I go wake him up?" Edward asked.

"Wait. Sometimes he quiets on his own," I said.

Edward rolled off of him and sighed, hand running through his hair. We lay there and stared at the ceiling waiting for anything else.

After a minute, Edward reached and pulled me to him.

"I…have slept so well since you've been home," I admitted. "It does help to have someone."

"He needs more help than we can give him," Edward. "I'll bet he's popping pills right now. Who's to say his dreams aren't made worse because of the drugs?"

I nodded, but I didn't know.

"Are you having dreams? Before I left you seemed okay."

"I had one the first night, after you were gone."

"Oh, baby I'm so sorry."

"Not blaming. Just saying. I…I don't want to go out much. In Chicago…I felt overwhelmed."

He hugged me tight. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," I pushed him onto his back and rubbed over his chest and stomach, and cupped his privates. "Stop apologizing. I can't talk about my wounds if you keep getting wounded, you know?"

"I'm thinking of something…I'm your comfort person, right?" Edward.

"Yeah. Definitely."

"You're his."

"Yes, but I don't do for him what you do for me."

"I hope not," he said, and I slapped his arm.

"You know what I mean. I'm comfort for him because I don't confront him, because I can't. When I lost you, taking care of him gave me the feeling of being strong for someone. I can't explain it."

"I think I get it. I did that for Vickie. Not the same, but I get it."

James yelled again.

"How long before we interfere?" Edward asked.

"Depends. Waking him up is difficult, too. He'll feel like shit. So I let him sleep as long as he's not yelling at level five. I…categorize it that way."

Edward kissed my forehead. "Baby I'm so sorry. I've been all over the place and you've been trapped here with all of this."

"Stop apologizing," I said twisted some of his public hair and pulling.

We tussled a little and ended up kissing again. Madly.

When James yelled again, this time a long sound like, "Oh God," Edward pulled back exasperated. "I'm not going to feel guilty for wanting my own wife!"

I pulled him back to me, my hand around the back of his neck, "Then don't."

We kissed fiercely again, and he lost no time in rolling on top of me and seeking entrance. My body had responded, in spite of stopping and starting. I was so ready for him. When he felt how ready he groaned again, and even as James yelled once more we kept going, Edward pushing into me, pulling back, pushing in again. He used himself to stimulate me externally, and I went wild as I came to release. It felt so good to feel good. He came with me, all over me. I was a mess down there, but we had to laugh a little while we panted.

"No wonder you're my comfort person," I laughed.

But when James yelled yet again, Edward asked, "Can I go? I know it's your job…taking care of him, but…can I do it?"

I nodded. "Of course."

He went to his suitcase, naked and beautiful in the moonlight. I watched him wrestle out some pajama bottoms which he pulled on. He smacked his lips at me before he went out the door. I was up on my good elbow, holding the sheet over my breasts as I watched him.

I got up quickly and pulled on my robe and followed down the hall. He had already reached James. James lay on his side. I hugged the doorway and watched Edward bend over him, the muscles on his back twitching. "James?" He put his hand on his brother's shoulder and shook him a little.

James started another round of groaning and mumbling. Edward kept shaking him. "Buddy? Wake up. You're in Bella's house. You're okay."

James rolled onto his back and stared at Edward. I saw James' arms move in a way that meant he was rubbing his head much as Edward would do when he awoke.

James tried to talk, then cleared his throat and started over. "What are you doing here?"

"It's okay. You were dreaming, man. It sounded intense."

"Hey, you got a cigarette?"

"No…I quit. Mostly."

It was all I could do not to yell out when Edward said 'mostly.' What?

"Yeah, don't tell her that," James said.

I almost blew my cover, but decided this was too good.

"Yeah, about tonight…I was an asshole."

James smirked. "Little Eddie."

"Okay…I deserved that…I guess. Look…what do you want to do? What do you think you need?" Edward sat near James' feet.

"I came for her."

"So…you don't need her right now? Even though she's my wife and it's fucked, I get it if you need her."

James laughed a little. "Hey, get in that black bag over there. I've got cigs and matches."

Edward went to the bag. "She won't let you smoke in here."

"I wasn't going to." James was already pulling himself up and swinging his legs slowly to the floor. The bad one was killing him, I knew.

"What can I do?" Edward asked, standing there holding the cancer sticks.

"You can open the damn window," he said, holding out his hands for the smokes.

Edward blew a breath, "You're lucky you're so fucked up. If Bella smells that…."

"It will drown out the smell of pussy," James said, and I nearly gasped. How humiliating. I wanted to go in there and slap his face.

"Fuck you," Edward said.

"Never get enough, do you," James said, inhaling and laughing.

"Well the baby was crying and we got cut short, but that's okay, I'm hauling his ass out in the morning. Can't wait."

James lit the smoke.

"Close that window yourself when you're done," Edward snapped turning to leave the room. I ran ahead then, and dove into the bed, lying on my side when he got back. He got in beside me and pulled me into his arms. He was naked. I was still wearing the robe, but he didn't seem to notice, and it didn't stop him, open as it was in the front.

He lifted my chin and kissed my nose. "Hey sleepyhead, ready for round two?" His hands moved over my breasts. "You're kind of chilly," he noticed. "I don't care if our baby boy screams his head off, we're not stopping this time."

I was kind of out of the mood. We weren't going to have sex just to show him we could, were we?

But as Edward's hands kept going, and moved to my privates, I started to change my mind. "Let's set a new record," he whispered, going for my neck. "You're at nine, right? Nine orgasms? We can beat that, don't you think?"

"I don't know," I said all breathy. "I'm still not a hundred percent. We might need to stop at six." All I know is I had two distinct kinds of orgasms, one that hit me on the outside and left me gasping, and one deeper inside that made me feel like he'd hit the mother load and sent off fireworks in my very core. And though James never came running to see how I was, there were a couple of times when I screamed louder than him.

In the morning, we were eating breakfast around the table. James and Edward were barely speaking to one another, so it was a chew fest. We all seemed hung over. I knew I was. I'd drunk my fill of lust…and now I had a headache.

Jasper went whizzing through our line of vision riding a snowmobile as he dissected our yard over three feet of fresh snow. "I want one," Edward said, his voice a flatline.

"I'm sure you can use Alice's," I said.

"I thought we were flying out of here," James said.

"Can't. Weather." It's like Edward could barely form words.

"Fuck," James said.

"We're going snowmobile riding," Edward announced, chewing another bite of toast with his mouth open, and he never ate with his mouth open.

"Fuck that," James said.

"You're going," Edward again, his eyes on Jasper as he zigged and zagged.

"He's playing with you," I said, meaning Jasper, not the two at my table.

"I'm taking the bait," Edward said. Then to James, "And so are you."

"McCarty rents them…or sells them," I said.

"I'm getting one," Edward said, then to James, "Yours we'll rent."

"Not going," James.

"Yes you are. You're going to get out in the fresh air and get your ass off that couch. You're going to get some exercise and then you might actually sleep," Edward.

"You're my doctor now?"

"I'm your worst nightmare," he said, movie quoting, but not quite kidding either.

An hour and a half later Edward and Jasper turned into our driveway pulling a trailer and two machines. Another hour later Edward, James and Jasper were snowmobiling across Forks.

The deciding factor for James had been Jasper's encouragement, brief though it had been. Jasper had said something noteworthy like, "C'mon, man, give it a shot."

I think James just needed someone besides Edward to say 'yes' to.

So they braced James' leg over his snow pants and off they went, and as soon as Alice got off work at three, she made her way over to me with the stuff to make a pot of chili. While she put that together I worked on the cornbread.

"You look like your old self now that he's home," she said.

I shrugged while I hand mixed eggs into the meal. "A good dose of Edward is just what I needed."

"When is James going home?"

I laughed. "Be bold."

"I'm just curious."

"Edward was taking him this morning."

Alice looked so happy.

"Soon as it clears he's gone."

"How do you feel about that?"

I sighed as I greased the two big pans. "Edward is right. He's tough love. I'm the enabler. So…."

"When will you go home?"

I put the spray can of oil aside and picked up the batter bowl. "I thought I was…home."

That night in bed, Edward and I made slow, slow love. He kissed me everywhere, rubbed his hands over me like he seemed to love doing. Then I returned the favor, rubbing his back, down his legs. Of course I ended up massaging the target area. All things ended there, or began there. So he was hard and ready when I used my mouth to bring him release. Then he did the same to me. "I love that," he told me getting up to go in the bathroom for a towel. He returned with my lotion, told me to roll onto my stomach, and proceeded to rub me down with the creamy pink concoction he bought for me at a shop in England.

"Did you check the sales today?" I asked.

"It's doing well," he said. "Word of mouth."

I hummed. "You're famous."

He laughed. "Not really. But this ass should be famous. Or not. I have to think about that."

"Really." I rolled over. "You love your snow-mobile?"

"I kind of love it," he said, rubbing the lotion over my front now, starting with my breasts. "I love these more, but it's a close second."

"Did you name it like…Sheila or something?"

"Sheila?" he laughed, "Try Betty."

"Oh, Betty." We grew quiet and he kept rubbing. "I think they're good," I said about my greased breasts.

He squeezed them both, "They're better than good. These babies are incomparable."

"One of a kind? Except there're two?"

"Exactly." He reached into the little black pot and got a new bit of lotion and started to rub on my stomach.

"When you take James in the morning," he'd gotten clearance that afternoon, "do you wish we were going too? Is it too difficult to be here now? I know Peter must wish you were back. I can't imagine how the work's piled at the foundation."

"Tanya's doing okay. Her and Peter are handling…things."

"I'll bet," I said because he'd set it up so I would.

"I'll stop in and get some work. We'll get it done."

"But you didn't answer my question," I said. He got more of the lotion and moved his hand between my legs, letting the coldness of the cream soothe me. Then he started to massage me there and I couldn't speak or think unless it was to call out his name.

That night we slept heavily. We were adjusting, even though Edward had to leave in the morning. I never wanted to leave here and go back to Chicago. I loved it here in Forks. I'd always known that. Then I thought of James and how healthy he'd looked after a day of letting the cold Fork's wind burn his face. He'd actually been kind of carefree when they'd finally made it home, and then I think they only returned because the sun was setting and they were starving. James told me he'd never had a better meal. He'd said it with the enthusiasm of a boy. I got a peak inside of him then.

When he got to Chicago, what then? Trauma could bring on real life changes. Would he go back to how everything was? Would he continue to womanize and hold people at a distance? And what about Vickie? Were those two finished?

Disappointingly, the yelling started around two in the morning. Edward started to mutter and rouse himself, but I pushed him down. He had that flight in the morning, and after a day outdoors, he needed to rest. "I'll go," I said.

He started to protest, but I didn't wait. This was the last night. I hopped along to where my robe hung on the back of the door and slipped it on. Then I went to James room where he was sleeping now. I knocked on the door and tried to talk to him, but I knew he'd never hear me. When he didn't respond I pushed in.

He lay, arms flung out wide, body tangled in blankets and the sheet. I knew he hated it back here, but he seemed miserable no matter where he lay. He was muttering and whimpering. I could see a sheen of sweat on his wind-burned face. I sat on the bed and shook his shoulder. "James, wake up."

"Shake him harder than that," Edward spoke from behind me. He wore sleep pants, but his chest was bare.

Edward reached around me when James yelled out. "James, wake up. It's okay. We're here. You're safe."

He opened glassy eyes. They didn't seem to see anything at first, but like the times before, comprehension came into his gaze and he realized he'd been dreaming yet again.

"Look," Edward said, more kind than I could imagine, "you're with us. You're okay."

James looked at him for a minute, and swallowed hard a couple of times. "Edward?"

"Yeah. It's me."

James shook his head. His face crumpled, and I thought he was going to cry, but he got it under control, and his features eased, but he kept swallowing. He moved himself to a sitting position, flinching over his leg. He leaned against the headboard. I patted the brace on his leg.

I started some bullshit speech about how I knew it was bad now, but it would get better after he talked to someone….

"No, Bella, it won't get better. So just…." He looked away, and pulled on his chin. "I need a cigarette."

"No," I said, "you don't."

But Edward was going in search of them.

"I thought I was his enabler," I said.

"Edward, come here," James said. "Both of you…just stop. I need you to listen."

Edward came to stand next to me. My hand stilled on James' brace.

"I…it's not the accident. I mean…that was bad, but there's something…worse."

Edward looked quickly to me, then back to his brother. "What could be worse?" he asked. "Did you kill someone?"

"Yes," James said, surprising the hell out of us. "I killed Aro."


	54. Chapter 54

Catwoman 54

"We could do a mock arrest, would that help you? I'll call Jacob Black and he can put you in jail for a couple of hours," Edward was saying close to James' face, and through his teeth.

"Edward, calm down," I said. "James, what you did…," I looked at Edward now, "we need to call Ben. It's clearly a moral issue. A spiritual one."

"A lack of both," Edward actually hissed.

"I didn't know about Aro's heart!" James yelled.

"No one did," I said, not sure why I kept rushing to protect him, then catching the tension in Edward's shoulders as he turned toward his brother and knowing exactly why I was protecting him.

"It doesn't matter you stupid…." Edward attacked his own hair yet again.

"Edward. Call Ben." Me.

"I don't want to talk to Ben," James said, all of the fight seeming to drain out of him.

"It doesn't matter what you want," I said, touching his arm so he'd look at me. "Isn't that what this is all about? You calling all of the shots? Hurtful consequences?"

He looked at me for a minute. "I'm so sorry, Bella."

I looked quickly to Edward. He wasn't ready to hear James apologize, I was sure. He wouldn't trust it, anyway, and it couldn't fix anything. That's how he'd see it in this stage of upset.

"I believe you are," I said, and Edward cursed, but I kept on, "…but it's not enough. You have to talk to someone, and Ben's it."

"I wanted to tell you. I almost did…then I couldn't. I figured it was just me unburdening myself on you. But you were the one I knew I could tell. That's why…that's really why I came." James.

"Of course it is. You don't do anything that doesn't benefit you. People are just a means to an end for you. Well my wife…is off limits. You took a man who was like…you stupid fuck. And then my wife…."

"Edward, please," I said.

"No…and then my wife. You let her think…you have been in my life for the last time. My mother…all this time…I knew it was hard back then, man, I knew it and I gave you that. But there is no way that explains what you've become. You have used the goodness of this family and my wife…."

"Edward," I went to him and put my arms around him. "Look at me."

His face was a storm of emotion. His eyes were lit with such anger and hatred. I had never seen hate in him before, and it made me gulp. "Edward…," I kissed near his mouth, and he swallowed as he looked back at me, but it wouldn't be this easy, "Call Ben now."

He grit his teeth and pulled away from me, but before going out he turned back to me and pointed a finger, "Do not comfort that fuck. Hear me?" Then he left the room.

I let out a breath that I didn't even know I'd been holding.

James was crying. I didn't know it was possible, but he was full on crying. Edward's warning was in my ears, but he was in such a state I knew I'd better not push him.

So I sat in the one bedroom chair with my hands on my knees and stared at the floor. I prayed for us all.

Edward did not come back in the room, but I heard him let Ben in a few minutes later. He told Ben we were in the back bedroom. They spoke in low tones for a minute, then Ben appeared around the doorway. His eyes landed on James then moved to me. "Hello, Bella."

"Hello."

He stepped to the bed and he and James spoke and shook hands.

Ben asked James if he wanted to speak with me in the room, or privately, or what did we both think. James wanted to speak with Ben alone. That meant I went out to face Edward.

Edward sat in the living room on the couch where James usually lived. He stared out the window, his shoulders slack now. I sat lightly next to him, close, but not too close.

"Hey," I said.

He slid his hand over toward me and gripped mine, but he kept staring out the window toward my old house.

We sat that way in silence for a while. It was almost an hour later that we heard the commotion James' chair made as he wheeled himself down the hall. I realized I'd fallen into a state of twilight, half asleep, half not. Edward seemed to be rousing himself as well.

Ben walked behind James. When they entered the living room, James parked facing Edward, only a good ten feet away. Ben took the chair across from me.

"Edward," James said, and as he blocked Edward's view, Edward looked at him without moving. I studied my husband, and could see the disgust in his expression, brows a straight line, mouth a straight line. "For me…the gas line blowing…it was payback. I couldn't figure out why…I lived. And…Hosea…I figured maybe he had a secret like human trafficking or something…I know that's bullshit…but maybe he hit the old lady…I couldn't figure it out…but Bella…no fair. I felt so bad, man. And I make it my goal to never…feel bad. But I thought about it…your mother, like you said, your father, well Aro…and almost your wife. I've always known I'm no good…but you're from the same cloth…and really, I knew there was something good in you. There always was, even when you were being a dick…sorry…I knew. Everyone knew. I tried to take Vickie. That's why I kept coming back…I think. I've just been thinking that since the fire. And Aro…same club as you, you know? Self-righteous. I just…it always seemed strong, you, him, even Carlisle. I knew he wanted Vickie and I knew Vickie wanted you. That's how it was. But here's what you don't know…I loved her. Love her. And I always have. But…you. As usual. You. Wonder boy."

"Oh, fuck off," Edward.

Ben put his hand up, and Edward wrecked his wrecked hair, and James looked at Ben and continued, "That's what I thought. I'm just telling you."

"I don't care what you thought. I'm sick of you. Why should I have to listen to this?" Edward. "Am I supposed to help you feel better about what you did to Aro? Is that my job?"

I put my hand on Edward's arm. We looked at one another, and Edward flopped back against the couch.

"Vickie knew the Texas trip was more than business. She knew Aro was going to propose. She told me, she said it was my last chance to beat him to it. I…I didn't believe her. I didn't trust her. I knew she didn't want to get married, but I knew she wanted to stay close to you. After they left we kept texting and I realized she was going to do it. I told her not to, but she went ahead and said yes. I kept texting her, and she told me where they were and I went there. He wasn't glad to see me, but he never played his hand because he knew it was delicate with her. He had a meeting, we got drunk, we got high, we hit the sack, and I knew he'd find us. She let it happen, but it was truly because she was too out of it. She was just sloppy. I knew what I was doing. It was just like in the movies, he came in, guess he realized she wasn't going to stop, and down he went. She got hysterical, we called the hotel doctor, I was trying CPR when he came in, and she was next door in my room. The hotel doctor assumed it was two guys on the down-low, I asked for his discretion, they took Aro in the ambulance, Vickie and I followed, and he was pronounced dead upon arrival."

We all sat there, the sound of the fireplace blower loud in the room.

"We tried to go on, you know. At first we said, hey, we never meant…whatever. But it kind of just went sour. Between us. We see each other…but…when the explosion happened, even during it, I knew. I thought, here it is. Finally. Finally I get what I deserve. But then Bella…so I fought to do something…good…if I could, but I passed out. Even that…but," he looked at me, "she was strong. She saved us. Saved me." He waved his hand.

"So what do you want from me? What more?" Edward's arms were folded over his chest. He was glaring.

"Just that I could tell you the truth."

"It's not enough."

"Edward," Ben began, but Edward held up his hand, and Ben sat back and crossed his legs.

"I want restitution. I could hit you with wrongful death, but it wouldn't hold. And it wouldn't be worth it. I don't want vengeance because it's not possible. You have to live with this. I do believe in forgiveness, and I'll get there, but I'm not there yet. But I still think this demands restitution. If, in anyway, it makes you a better man, a man who can finally hear the voice of his conscience when he's enroute to fuck another man's fiance, and not after the man is lying dead, if it's even possible to get through to you, then something good may come out of this horror. But it's still not enough. So you say you wanted to tell your story and now you have and now the ball's in my court because you put it there."

"Don't you think he should have?" Ben.

"I do." Edward. "And now it's there."

"What do you want?" James.

"Money."

"How much?"

"For the rest of your life. Paid to the charity of my choice. A never-ending debt. It doesn't make-up for anything, it doesn't absolve you. It reminds you, and it helps others while you are reminded of what you did, who you are, and that it is not okay." Edward had moved forward as he spoke, but now he recrosses his arms and flops against the back of the couch.

"I know I'm a fuck, but you are not God." James.

"I know you're a fuck, and I am your god. The day you find the real one, let me know and we'll renegotiate. Until then? You pay."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll come after your assets. I'll get Carlisle to change his and Esme's will. Seeking retribution from you will become my and my team of lawyers' full-time jobs."

"How much are we talking?"

"One-tenth of your salary."

"A tithe?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"As a heart attack. No pun."

James sucked his teeth as he stared at Edward. He breathed out and shook his head and looked at Ben.

Ben studied Edward. He was poker-faced.

"This is ridiculous," James said.

"When you chose to tell me, you opened yourself to live in the truth. You have a chance to become a better man. Until you really want to take that chance, I'm going to strong arm you into it. There's not a book in the world that will back me…except maybe parts of the Old Testament, but that's okay. I know this is the thing to do. You're not going to lay this on me to make yourself feel better and then scurry on back to Chicago and carry on while I walk around with this two ton boulder of your bad behavior. You're going to keep on living in the truth you created. You're going to carry it. I have to suffer the loss of my dear friend. I don't have to carry your sins with it. But every-time you get your check…I get mine. And someone gets theirs. It won't bring Aro back, but it will keep slapping you with the truth…once a week…and maybe you'll wake up."

"Very good," Ben finally said. "I don't know why the Lord picked Moses over you."

Edward smiled for the first time since James had confessed. "Beats me. But that new youth center you've been coveting? It's going to be yours."


	55. Chapter 55

Catwoman 55

James lived up to it. The summer saw the ground break, the foundation laid, and the building go up for the new youth center at our Forks church. Next to the castle like building we loved was a large metal building that blended well with the surrounding forest, and housed a full sized gym, a kitchen, a dining room, a game room, with a large restroom for each gender, equipped with three bays of showers.

James hadn't paid for the whole thing. Edward happily put up the money. But James' check was filling it with the proper amenities.

The babies came. Twins for Ben and Angela. A boy for Rose and Emmett. An adoption in process for Alice and Jasper. A boy for Jacob and Leah. So we spent a lot of time that summer in Forks.

I did go back to our home in Chicago a couple of weeks after Edward flew James home. Things were better between them. The restitution seemed to give both of them a place to work from. James seemed to gain some self-respect, and he liked what Edward was doing with the money, and Edward worked hard to get to and stay in a place of forgiveness. Forgiveness did not mean he approved, it just meant that he wasn't holding on, he wasn't acting out of vengeance.

James and Vickie did not get back together. We rarely saw Vickie these days, but heard through Esme that she was living in Los Angeles. Sandy and another student had taken over the completion of James' loft and now James was dating Sandy. I finally finished my design courses, and I continued to assist Esme. I was loving the work.

Peter and Tanya took over much of the work at the foundation, but Edward was still very active. Their book was selling well and made a couple of best-selling lists.

The pressure to procreate had bitten us hard as we held the babies of our friends. We hadn't announced it yet, but the bun was growing in the oven that was me.

We were doing our favorite thing. I was relaxing in a full tub with the jets going, and Edward was kneeling behind the tub and massaging my aching breasts. "These things," he said, "are so fantastic, I should have gotten you pregnant months ago."

My eyes were closed and when I spoke, I had trouble forming my words, "…it's the miracle of a child growing in the womb, not the miracle of breasts."

"No, no, no. Someday it will be all about the child…but now, baby it's you." And he gave my nipples just enough of a pinch to get a lusty noise out of me.

"That's it," he said, and I could hear his clothes coming off. We always got here eventually, but tonight he had less patience than usual.

I sat forward, my eyes still closed, even when he moved so his thing could poke me on the shoulder. That thing had been in every hint of an opening my body had. He was quite creative with it, and obviously thought it was the greatest thing going, as did I sort of, but I had a real sense of humor about it, too. So I surprised him by kissing it quickly before he sat all the way down.

"Oh," was all he said. We readjusted, with him behind me this time, not our normal position of facing one another. It felt so good to lean against him, but I said, "This is like laying on a sleeper sofa mattress."

"Oh yeah, sorry about my big rod," he said in my ear with his sexy voice. This made me laugh.

I reached around to the rod and gave it a few strokes. "It's so dirty," he whispered, handing me the bar of soap. So I lathered my hands and twisted around and got to work on it. But it was below water until he would lift his hips a little and let it poke out at me like a turtle's head. That's what I told him it looked like and he loved that.

So now I floated up to him and laid my head on his stomach, and let my arms relax that way while the jets shot against us. But after a few minutes he moved his hips a little and there it was, poking me under the chin this time. "Hey," he said in that low sexy voice, "would you like to say a few words?"

I lifted my head and put my hand on it like it was a microphone and brought my lips close to it, "I'd like to thank the members of the academy," sometimes I let my lips just graze it. I looked up at him and he was riveted on my performance. "Like my little speech?"

He pushed my head down a bit, "Love it." So I took him in, and he raised to meet the challenge. Always such an over achiever.

Six months later, we had a girl. She looked just like Edward. Our goal was to move back to Forks. I wanted her to grow up as I had, in a place where time slowed and people knew one another. I pined for Rose and Alice and Angela. I wanted my girl to know their children. We knew it would take us some time, maybe a couple of years, but we had the goal of going home.

The End!

Thanks for reading this, folks. I had a great time writing it. Thanks for all the favorites and alerts. Thanks especially to those who reviewed. Some of you were so faithful. Love to you all!

Counselor


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